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Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporatioii 


23  WfST  MAIN  STRUT 

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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Inatitute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  mlcroraproductlona  historiquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  mpy  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


D 


D 


□ 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommag6e 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pellicul6e 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bloue  ou  noire) 


Fy^  Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  r^ause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

Lareiiure  serrde  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoraticn  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoi/tSes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais.  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  film^Qs. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires; 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mdthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


□   Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

r~~l'  Pages  damaged/ 
I  ^    Pages  endommagdes 

nPagec  restoied  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pellicul^es 


./ 


Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d6color6es,  tachet6es  ou  piqudes 


r~n    Pages  detached/ 


Pages  d6tach6es 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Qualit6  indgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materii 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppl^mentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


I      I  Showthrough/ 

r~^  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I      I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I      I  Only  edition  available/ 


0 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
sliF>s.  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  fiim^es  d  nouveau  de  fagon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


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This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  rMuction  {ndiqu6  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

1 
1 

il 

1 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28X 

32X 

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The  copy  filmed  here  hes  been  reproducer*  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Metropolitan  Toronto  Library 
History  Department 


L'exemplaire  film*  fut  reprodult  grAce  h  la 
g6rirositA  de: 

l^ietrotMilitan  Toronto  Library 
Hittory  Department 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
posiiible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  Iceeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  bacit  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
ottier  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^(meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

l\/laps,  plates,  ci*arts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
de  la  nettet*  de  rexemplaire  f  llmA,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  origlnaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprlmte  sont  filmfo  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  ^toit  par  la 
dernldre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'Hiustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
origlnaux  sont  fllmte  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
derniire  image  de  chaque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — ►  signifia  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  sign;7ie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmte  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  ittre 
reprodult  en  un  seul  clichA,  11  est  film6  A  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  i  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


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OUR  WILD  INDIANS : 


THIRTY-THREE  YEARS'  PERSONAL  EXPERIENCE 


AMONQ  THE 


Eed  Men  of  the  Great  West. 


A  POPULAB  ACCOUNT  OF 

THEIR  SOCIAL  LIFE,  RELIGION,  HiBITS,  TRAITS,  CUSTOMS,  EXPLOITS,  ETC. 

WITH  r.i^  ■' 

EljriUing  ^trijenturejE^  ani  JExptxitnm 

ON  THE  GREAT  PLAINS  AND  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 
OF  OUR  WIDE  FRONTIER. 


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>v.       BY 


COLONEL  RICHARD  IRVING  DODGE, 

UNITED  8T1.TB8  ABMT. 
'     'AlD-DB-OAMP   TO   0KH8RAL   BHBBMAM. 


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St''',-**' 


^'5  WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 


4+1 


By  general  SHERMAN. 


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^ttllg  lUustrattb  foh^  portraits  on  S5ttel,  Jull-pagt  €ttgra(>mg8  on  Moob, 
anb  <|hu  C^romo-^Pit^ograg^  pat«8. 


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HARTFORD,  CONN.: 
A.   D.  WORTHINGTON   AND   COMPANY. 

A.  G.  NETTLETON  &  CO.,  CHICAGO,  ILL.     N.  D.  THOMPSON  &  CO.,  ST.  LOUIS,  MO. 
C.  C.  WICK  &  CO.,  CLEVELAND,  O.    W.  E.  DIBBLE  &  CO.,  CINCmNATI,  O. 
,  A.  L.  BANCROFT  &  CO.^  SAN  FILiNCISCO,  CAL. 

1882. 


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Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congross,  in  the  year  1882, 

By  a.  D.  Wokthinqton  and  Company, 

In  the  OflSce  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  0. 


e'SP:' 


->r?6tf^.*l-A5-.JW>^^St'A^-!':  _ir-Jt-7?  -V*?.. 


DEDICATED 

(bt  permission) 

TO 

WILLIAM  TECUMSEH  SHERMAN. 

(Ecncral 

OF 

THE  ARMY  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


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AUTHOR'S   PREFACE. 


HE  greater  part  of  the  past  thirty-four  years 
of  my  life  has  been  spent  on  the  frontier 
in  more  or  less  direct  contact  with  Indians. 
It  was  not,  however,  until  1872  that  I  was 
induced  to  attempt  to  excite  for  them  the 
interest  of  others.  From  and  after  that  year 
I  occasionally  wrote  short  articles  on  Indians  and 
the  Indian  question,  some  of  which  were  contributed 
anonymously  to  the  press. 

In  1877  I  published  a  book  entitled  "The  Plains 
of  the  Great  West,"  a  work  mainly  descriptive  of 
the  topography,  climate,  game,  etc.,  of  that  portion 
of  our  countr}'^  known  as  the  "Plains,"  to  which 
I  added  some  sketches  of  Indian  life.  Determined 
to  be  entirely  unbiassed  in  my  opinions,  and  with,  I 
hope,  a  not  unpardonable  vanity  to  be  original,  I 
carefully  abstained  from  consulting  contemporaneous 
authorities,  —  either  books  or  men. 

The  extremely  flattering  reception  which  that  book 
met  at  the  hands  of  the  critics,  and,  more  especially 
the  unexpected  encomiums  bestowed  upon  the  brief 
and  imperfect  Indian  sketches  (which  I  had  added 
to  the  volume  more  as  a  finale  than  with  any  hope 
of  attracting  particular  attention  to  the  subject)  en- 
couraged me  to  continue  my  studies  of  Indian  life, 
but  in  a  wider  field.  In  those  sketches  I  had  briefly 
given  my  opinions;  I  now  determined  to  know  the 
facts;  and  this  could  only  be  done  by  comparison 
of  my  opinions  with  those  of  other  men  who  had 


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PREFACE. 


written  on  the  Indian.  I  therefore  procured  the 
v^orks  of  Catlin,  Schoolcraft,  and  many  other  "  lesser 
lights,"  and  studied  them  assiduously,  comparing  their 
ideas  with  my  own.  For  many  years  past  I  have 
been  most  fortunately  situated  for  such  study,  hav- 
ing been  stationed  directly  among  the  wild  tribes, 
whose  characteristics  have  always  been  of  most  in- 
terest to  me.  Whenever  I  have  found  that  my  ideas 
differed  from  those  of  "  an  authority,"  I  have  taken  the 
case  directly  to  the  Indians  themselves.  My  position 
as  commanding  officer  —  "Big  Chief "  —  enabled  me 
always  to  get  a  hearing  and  an  answer  on  any  sub- 
ject; and  my  well-known  friendship  for  the  race 
caused  the  Indians  to  give  me  more  frank  confidence 
than  a  white  man  usually  obtains.  I  have  thus  been 
enabled  to  get  at  facts ;  to  correct  the  errors  of  my 
previous  desultory  writings,  as  well  as  errors  of 
accepted  Indian  "  authorities." 

For  two  years  past  I  have  been  importuned  by 
friends  whose  opinions  I  value  most  nighly,  to  give 
to  the  world  the  result  of  my  observations  and  labors. 
I  have  consented  to  do  so,  not  without  hesitation, 
because  having  previously  written  on  the  same  sub- 
ject, I  must  occasionally  repeat  myself,  or  commit  the 
affectation  of  clothing  the  same  ideas  in  different 
words.  My  friends  have  overruled  this  objection, 
and  I  present  in  this  volume  a  detailed  account  of 
the  characteristics,  habits,  and, —  what  I  particularly 
desire  to  invite  attention  to,  —  a  minute  and  careful 
study  of  the  social  or  inner  life  of  the  wild  Indian  of 
the  present  day. 


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'•     ?ii:,' 

List  of  Illustrations 


OM 


STEEL  AND  WOOD. 


ENGRAVINGS   ON  STEEL. 

\.  PORTUAIT  OP  THE  AUTTtOR Frontispiece. 

From  a  photograiih  taken  expressly  for  this  work,  by  liradi',  Washington,  D,  C, 
and  KngraveJ  ou  Steyl  by  J.  J.  Cade,  New  York. 

2.  GENERAL  GEORGE  CROOK     .    .    . 

3.  GENERAL  NELSON  A,  MILES    .    . 

4.  GENERAL  GEORGE  A.  CUSTER.    .    .   ^  FAMOUS  INDIAN  FIGHTERS.     To  face  p.  492 

6.  GENERAL  RANALD  S.  MACKENZIE, 

Taken  from  photographs,  aud  Engraved  on  Steel  by  J.  A.  J.  Wilcox,  Boston,  Mass. 


ENGRAVINGS  ON   WOOD. 
1.  Peaceor  War?— An  Indian  Council  — 


Spotted  Tail't  Speech 


} 


ABTTBT.  XMOBAYXB.  PAGI 

Ernest  Oriset.        Pannemaker,  To  face  70 


,iL  Assassinating  Bio  Mouth,  i 

J,  >    James  E.  Taylor.    John  Karst 


2.  SpottedTail  Assassinating  Bio  Mouth 
A  Rival 


86 


_A  ^ 


3.  Hocn-B-A-YuM  -  The  Great  Medicine  I 

jj  >   James  E.  Taylor,    Charles  Speigle     .    138 


4.  IndianSelf-Torture— Enduranceand  ) 

DEFIANCE  of  PAIN \   ^^^>  ^' ^O-Vlor.  John  KaTSt 


6.  The  Last  Resting-Place  of  the  In- 
dians —A  Cemetery  Among  the  Trees 
on  Medicine  Lodob  Creek,  Indian 
Territory 


Ernest  Griset,        A,  Bellinger 


C.  OUH  Stealthy  Foes  — The  Attack  on  ) 

THE  WAQOir  Train \   Ernest  Griset.        A.Bellinger. 


150 


164 


182 


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viii  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

7.  Fate  OF  LiEtTT.  Kidder  AND  HIS  ENTIRE)  *«™''-  wobav™.  pack 

COMMAXD-DiscovEBY  OF  TUEiK BODIES  (    JamcB  Ji.  TayloT.   JohnKarst    .    .        220 

8.  Gen.  Custer's  Surprise  of  an  Indian  1 

Camp  of  over  Two  Thousand  War-  >  James  E.  Taylor.  John  Kamt    ...    242 
BIOBS j 

S.  A  SUCCESSFUL  WAR  PARTY  CELEBRATING)    ^^^^  fjriset.        PannemaUv .    .    .    3G0 
Victory  -  The  Scalp  Pance  .   .   .   . ) 

10.  A    Chronological    and     Historical  )    Reproduced  in  Facsimile  from  the  \   .n. 
Chart  of  a  Band  of  Sioux    ,    .    .    . )  Original  Chart ]  '^^ 

IJ.  Surrounded— Desperate   Charge   ofI 

Gen.  Crook's  Cavalry  at  the  Bat-  j-  James  E.  Taylor.  John  Karst   ...    446 
tle  of  the  Rosebud J 

12.  Heroissi  ..nd  Death  of  Sergeant-Ma-  )    ^         „  „    ,       ,  .     „ 

>    James  E,  Taylor.  John  Karst    ...    472 
job  Kennedy ) 

13.  WiNinn  on  tee  Plains— A  TfrribleI 

ErcPERinNCE    in    the    Teeth    of    a  I-  James  E.  Taylor.   Charles  Speigle .    .    504 
"Norther" J 

14.  Sam  Cherhy's  Last  Shot James  E.  Taylor.   Charles  Speigle .    .    518 

15.  At  the  Mercy  of  Savage  Captors—  )    , 

Torture  BY  SLOW  FIRES.    .....(   •^«'»«''^- ^«Wor.   Charles  Speigle .       Cl'6 

16.  A  Sudden  Surprise  — The  Attack  on) 

.-HE  UNITED  states  Mail  coach    .    .(   •^'^<"'S'-  C.  Laplante  .    .    .    m 

17.  Rescuing  a  Wounded  Comrade  — He-) 

Boic  exploit  of  Amos  chapman.   .    .\   '^'*^»  E- Taylor.   Charles  Speigle .   .   632 


<^Xb\ 


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242 


360 


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eigle.    .    518 
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1 


LIST 


OF 


Chromo  -  Lithograph  Plates, 


WITH 


©escriptfons  anti  !ExpIanatton0, 


Note  by  ttte  PrnLisnERS.  —  Tliese  chromo-Uthograph  plates  are  extremely  accu- 
rate I'l  drawing  anil  coloring,  no  expe.'se  or  pains  having  been  spared  to  distinguish 
thoMi  in  these  respects  for  their  tidelity  tt  the  objects  they  represent.  Kach  group  was 
first  photofjrapheil  to  the  proper  size,  tl'iiis  insuring  fulness  of  detail  aud  perfect  accuracy, 
and  at  the  same  time  preserving  tlie  relative  size  of  one  object  to  another.  The  original 
objects  and  the  i)hotographs  were  then  placed  ii;  the  hands  of  a  skilful  artist,  who 
exercised  tlie  most  painstaking  care  in  painting  the  photograph  of  each  article  directly 
from  the  object  itself.  These  painted  photographs  were  ihen  transferred  to  stone,  from 
which  the  plates  herewith  presented  were  printed.  Each  plate  requires  no  less  than 
flftut'u  printings  to  produce  tlie  various  colors  and  tints  absolutely  necessary  to  a  faith- 
ful representation  of  the  objects  shown,  thus  requiring  ninety  encraveu  stones  to 
proiluce  tlieso  six  plates.  The  engraving  and  ^rinclug  were  duue  by  Meiisrs.  Biugham, 
bodd  &  Co.,41art{ord,  Conu. 


Plate  I. 


Page  128. 


Red  Cloud's  War  Bonnet— Douglas's  Tobacco 
Pouch  —  Famous  Pipes,  &c. 

1.  War  Bonxkt  of  Red  Cloud,  Principal  Chief  of  the  Sioux. 

2.  Ute  Bkaded  ToiiAcco  Pouch. 
u.  Sioux  War  Club, 

4.  Watf.b  Jab,  made  of  Grass  and  Lived  with  Pitch. 

Once  belonging  to  Chipeta,  wife  of  Oiuray,  head  cliief  of  the  Utes. 

5.  Sioux  Gourd  I'attle. 

6.  Beaded  Tobacco  Pouch. 

Formerly  owned  by  Douglass,  the  chief  of  Utes  who  murdered  the  Meeker  family. 

7.  Tobacco  Pipe  of  the  Siioshones,  or  Snakes. 

8.  Tall  Bull's  Tobacco  Pipe,  ornamented  with  Feathers  and  Scalp-Locks. 

Tall  Bull  was  chief  of  a  band  of  outlaw  Cheyennes  and  Sloux.  I'e  was  killed  at 
the  battle  of  Summit  Springs,  Colorado.  His  wife,  who  was  c  iptured  at  the 
time,  said  the  scalps  attached  to  t?ie  pipe  wero  those  of  .vh'i,c  ettlers  on  the 
Sallna  Ulver,  Kansas,  taken  only  two  weeks  previously.  Seveuty-.wo  sarages 
were  killed  at  the  battle  of  Summit  Spriugs. 

jp*  I  Sioux  Tobacco  Pipes. 

11,  A  Famous  Peace  Pipe. 

This  pipe  was  used  at  the  grand  council  held  at  Ued  Cloud  Agency  when  the 
question  of  the  surrender  of  the  Black  Hills  to  the  United  States  was  discussed. 

ix 


mr 


■•■WV'}i"\  i^-'- 


LIST  OP  CHKOMO-LITHOGIiAPH  PLATES. 


Plate  II. 


Page  266. 


Sioux  War  Shirt— Apache  Caps— Moccasins 

FROM  THE  Battle-field  of  Gen.  Custer's 

Death— Totems,  &c. 

\.  Apache  Cap. 

Made  of  red  flannel,  and  ornamented  with  feathers  and  buttous. 

2.  Apache  Cap. 

Ornamented  with  turkey-feathers  and  buttons. 

3.  A  Pair  of  Sioux  Moccasins. 

Found  on  the  battle-field  of  Gen.  Custer's  death. 

4.  A  Sioux  War  Shirt. 

This  elaborate  war  shirt  is  made  of  fine-dressed  buckskin.    It  is  ornamented  with 
bends  and  skius,  and  fringed  with  many  scalp-locks. 

5.  Totem,  made  of  a  Turtle-Shell. 

Worn  suspended  from  the  ueck, 
6  Tobacco  Pouch,  elaborately  Beaded. 

7.  Totem,  made  op  a  Beaveb-Skin. 

8.  Tobacco  Pouch,  beautifully  Beaded. 

9.  Medicine  Bao,  made  of  the  Skln  of  a  Beak's  Foot. 


Plate  III. 


Page  306. 


Squaw's  Dress,  Bow-Case  and  Quiver— Musi- 
cal Instruments— Cradle— Rattles,  &c. 


I  Ute  Bow  and  Arrows. 
Sioux  Flageolet,  or  Flute. 
Cheyenne  Flute. 
Sioux  Kattle. 

Made  of  the  ends  of  buffalo-toes. 

6.  A  Pair  op  Cheyenne  Mocca.sin9. 

Beautifully  embroidered  with  beads. 

7.  Bow-Case  and  Quiver,  made  of  a  PANTnrH-SKiN. 

This  once  belonged  to  the  wife  of  Yellow  Bear,  a  prominent  chief  of  tho 
Cheyennes. 

8.  A  Cheyenne  Tobacco  Pouch. 

9.  A  Cheyenne  Squaw  Dress. 

Tliis  elaborate  and  valuable  dress  is  ornamented  with  the  eye-teeth  of  Elk.    Kach 
pair  of  teeth  represents  one  Elk.    The  Indians  valued  the  dress  at  eight  ponies, 
or  about  tteo  hundred  dollars. 
10.  A  Cheyevne  Rattle. 

Made  of  the  ends  of  Buifalo-toes. 
U.  A  Cheyenne  Beaded  Cradle. 

This  once  belonged  to  the  wife  of  a  prominent  chief.  It  is  most  elaborately 
embroidered  with  beads,  and  b.d  cradled  an  Indian  baby  a  year,  before  coming 
into  possession  of  the  author. 


'•*WM 


AOE  256. 


LIST  OF   CHROMO-LITHOGEAPH  PLATES.  XI 


SINS 
l<'S 


Plate  IT. 


Page  412. 


ted  with 


Fac-Similes  of  Indian  Drawings. 

(Drawn  with  colored  peDCil^  by  Big  Bacic,  a  Clicyennc  Indian.) 

(A)  Indian  CorRTiyo  Scenes. 

(1)  The  Approach.     (2)  The  Couple  wrapped  in  one  Blanket. 

(B)  Genkual  Mackenzie's  Fight  with  tue  Chevennes,  and  Death  of  Lieut. 

McKlNNEY. 

Only  prominent  chiefs  who  were  killed  at  this  fight  are  represented  on  the  Indian 
siile,  and  the  fatal  wound  of  each  is  indicated  by  blood  flowing  from  it,  or — in 
some  cases  —  from  the  mouth.  The  names  of  the  chiefs  thus  shown  in  this 
picture  are  :  (1)  High  Bull ;  (2)  Walking  Calf ;  (3)  Whirlwind;  (4)  White  Face 
Bull ;  (5)  B\tll  Hump;  (0)  Old  Bull.  Short  lines  with  a  dot  at  one  end  repre- 
sent flying  bullets.  The  bullet  passing  through  Lieut.  McKinuey's  body  (7) 
indicates  the  manner  of  his  death. 


(J 


1' 


'LGE  306. 

lusi- 

c. 


Plate  Y. 


of  tho 


Each 

ponies, 


Page  422. 


Indian  Weapons— Tomahawks,  War  Shield, 
Clubs,  Bows,  Arrows,  &c. 


0. 

in. 
11. 

V2. 

13. 
X4. 


Comanche  Tomahawk. 

Ornamented  wltli  red  flannel,  scalp-locks,  and  feathers. 
Ute  Tomahawk  Pipe. 
}  Sioux  War  Clubs. 

Sioux  Bows  and  Arrows. 

Comanche  War  Shield. 

Ornimu'nted  with  feathers,  and  the  tall  of  a  horse.    This  shield  is  proof  against 
rifle  bullets. 

Bow-Case  and  Quiver  of  the  Bannock  Indians. 

Made  of  very  Wne  buckskin,  and  elaborately  embroidered  with  beads. 

I  Sioux  War  Clubs. 

Tomahawk  Pipe. 

Once  bulonglo?  to  Little  Bear,  a  prominent  chief  of  the  Northern  Apaches. 
Kiowa  War  Club. 
CouANCHE  Tomahawk  Pifb. 


•;»;; 
\ 


■  Ji. 


irately 
oniing 


1"3^ 


U5S 


1 
»?', 


xii  LIST  OF  CHROMO-LITIIOGEAPH  PLATES. 


Plate  YI. 


Page  514. 


Objects  of  Interest  and  Curiosity:  Scalps  of 

iNblANS  AND  V/HITE  PEOPLE— ORNAMENTS 

MADE  OF  Human  Skin  and  Bones,  &c. 


1. 

2, 
3. 
4. 
6. 
6. 

7, 

8. 

9. 
10. 
11. 

12. 

13. 

14. 

15. 


Kio'WA  Medicine  Rattle. 

Sheath  of  Scalping  Knife  (Sioux). 

Sheath  of  Scalping  Knife  (Cheyenne). 

Scalping  Knives. 

Scalps  of  Two  White  Men,  ahranged  on  a  VTand  fob  the  Scalp  Dance. 

Scalp  of  a  Sioux  Indian. 

Elaborately  ornamented  with  feathers  and  beads. 
Scalp  of  a  Sioux  Indian,  taken  entire. 
Scalp  of  a  Little  White  Gikl. 

This  scalp  was  taken  from  the  Conianches.    The  little  girl  was  about  nine  years 
old. 

Ute  Match  Safe,  Beaded. 

Ute  Needle  Case,  Beaded. 

Ute  Necklace,  with  "Medicine." 

Made  of  shells  from  the  Gulf  of  California,  passed  in  barter  from  tribe  to  tribe. 
Cheyenne  Squaw's  Gambling  Isiplement. 

Made  of  the  tones  of  a  bear's  foot. 

NoBTnEHN  Cheyenne  Necklace. 

Made  of  the  first  joints  of  human  fingers. 
Gambling  Bones,  and  Beaded  Case. 
Belt  made  of  Human  Skin. 

This  was  taken  fiom  a  Tonkaway  Indian,  who  had  made  it  from  the  skin  of  a 
Comanche. 


<«?•' 


f>'^'- 


•.^.Vu'jt.  i»L-.,->.I   ViJ  it* 


■^*r:jv'-'^^iv-4^\'-:  9-, 


AGE  ni4. 

PS  OF 
TS 


CONTENTS. 


Introduction,  bv  Gex.  William  T.  Sherman  . 


Page  XXXV 


)ANCE. 


me  years 


o  tribe. 


Bkin  of  a 


CHAl  TER  I. 

MY  EARLY   LIFE  — FIRST    EXPERIENCES  WITH   INDIANS  —  ADVEN- 
TURES AMONG  THE  COMANCHES. 

My  Early  Home  —  First  Sight  of  Warriors  —  A  Tlirill  of  Horror  Re- 
called—  Sudden  Transformation  of  My  Views  —  A  Beardless  Lieu- 
tenant—  The  Texan  Frontier  —  Nights  with  the  Comanches  —  Their 
Cunning  and  Treachery  —  Tlie  Sleepless  Foe  —  A  Fatal  Stumble  — 
On  a  Cavalry  Sqout  —  Adventurous  Pursuit  —  Surprising  an  Indian 
Camp — Invited  to  be  the  Guest  of  an  Indian  Chief — Wai-ned  of 
Danger  —  Outbreak  of  Hostilities  —  Young  Warriors  with  "  Bad 
Hearts  "  —  The  Bandera  Pass  —  An  Exciting  Adventure  —  Separated 
from  My  Command  —  Making  the  Best  of  It  —  Ruined  Ammuni- 
tion —  On  the  Edge  of  Peril  —  Reconnoitring  the  Indian  Camp  — 
My  Flight  and  Pursuit  —  The  Race  for  Life  —  My  Escape  —  Rejoin- 


ing My  Command  —  Thirty  Years  of  Indian  Warfare, 


Page  29 


CHAPTER  II. 

BEYOND   THE    MISSISSIPPI  —  THE    LANGUAGE,    NUMBERS,  HABITS, 
ETC.,  OF  THE  INDIANS  OF  THE  GREAT  WEST. 

Origin  of  the  American  Indians  —  The  Defect  of  Writers  on  the  Indians 

—  Wonderful  Diversity  of  the  Indian  Language  —  Curious  Facts  and 
Tendencies  —  The  Effect  of  War  —  Stupendous  Vanity  —  Invention 
of  Dialects  —  The  Passion  for  War  —  The  Crafty  and  Bloodthirsty 
Apaches  —  The  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoes  —  A  Marvellous  Alliance 

—  Tlie  Sign  Language  —  Estimates  of  Population  —  Superstitious 
Dread  of  being  Counted  —  Indian  Extermination  —  Nomadic  Pro- 
clivities —  The  Winter  Encampment  —  Home  Attachments  —  Love 
for  an  Old  Encampment  —  Cherished  Memories  —  "  Home  Sickness  " 

—  Mental  Peculiarities  —  Acute  Perceptions  —  Ill-Directed  Efforts  — 
Indian  Schools  —Indian  Orators  —  How  they  Rehearse  their  Speeches 

—  Swaying  a  Savage  Audience 42 


1 


!5-^,( 


-i,'h~o,  r. 


!J 


Xiv  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  III.  . 

WILD  LIFE   ON  THE   PLAINS -INDIAN  CIIAEACTER,  TRAITS,  AND 

PECULIARITIES. 

The  Country  of  the  "  Plains  Indians"  —  The  Dream  of  an  Enthusiast  — 
The  Indian  as  he  is  —  His  Conduct  in  tlie  Presence  of  Strangers  — 
Clothes  Only  for  Show  —  His  Conduct  in  his  Own  Camp  —  A  lioUick- 
inc  Miscreant  —  Night  Scenes  in  an  Indian  Camp  —  The  Disgrace  of 
being  Surprised  — A  Pair  of  Climbing  Boots  — The  Hero  of  tiie  Tele- 
graph Pole  —  How  a  Lady  Excited  Surprise  and  Admiration  —  A 
Comical  Incident  —  The  Story  of  a  Wooden  Leg  —  Carrying  a  Joko 
too  Far  —  A  Summary  Ejectment  —  Endurance  of  Pain  —  Patience, 
an  Indian  Virtue — Blowing  his  Own  Trumpet  —  Extravagant  Self- 
Praise  —  An  Indian's  Idea  of  Modesty  —  Honor  among  Thieves  — 
Kicked  Out  of  Camp  —  Early  Lessons  in  Stealing  —  Apt  Pupils  —  A 
Flagi'ant  Case  —  A  Fair  Field  and  No  Favor  —  Ditferences  of 
Opinion, 52 


CHAPTER  IV. 

INDIAN  CHIEFS  AND  RULERS  — TRIBAL  GOVERNMENT  —  HOW  PLACE 
AND  POWER  ARE  WON. 

Powers  of  the  Head  Chief —  The  Avengers  of  Blood  —  Tlie  Death  Penalty 
—  Deadly  Hostility  —  Sitting  Bull's  Indomitable  Band — Ouray's  Lost 
Prestige  —  Little  Robe  and  Little  Raven  —  Two  Tribes  that  are  Firm 
Friends  —  Disobeying  Spotted  Tail's  Orders  —  Fate  of  Deserting 
Warriors  —  Severe  Punishment  —  A  Secret  Society  —  The  "Picked 
Corps"  of  Warriors  —  The  Ciiief's  Body  Guard  —  Expiating  a  Sin  — 
A  Noted  Comanche  Chief:  Ilis  Courage  and  Daring —  Death  from  a 
Broken  Heart  — Red  Cloud's  Career- War  to  the  Knife  — A  Thrill- 
ing Episode  —  Rival  Suitors  —  Spotted  Tail's  Duel  —  Locked  in 
Death's  Embrace  —  Big  Mouth's  Assassination, .        .        .        ,68 


CHAPTER  V. 

SWINDLING  AND  ROBBING  THE  INDIANS -MY  OWN  OBSERVA- 
TIONS. 

The  "Treaty  System"  — Its  Absurdity  — Stipulations  that  cannot  be 
Kept  — How  Indians  are  Swindled  and  Robhed —"  Wards  of  the 
Nation"  — Modoc  Jack  — General  Canby's  Murderers  — Expiation 


'^ 


,j^*(;-.v,T«j;ii;^.T,j-  j-,.«-A,':,.;,*>i';,-  «■  /■^■^r  '.^V?*-' 


CONTENTS. 


xy 


on  the  Gallows — The  "  Indian  Agent"  — His  Absolute  Power  —  How 
Massacres  are  Invited  —  Poor  old  Mr.  Meeker — Our  "Indiiin  Policy" 

—  Forcible  Contrasts  —  My  Own  Observations  —  What  I  Have  Seen 

—  Unexampled  Scoundrellsm  —  Stone  Calf's  Daughter  —  The  Flower 
of  the  Wigwam  —  An  Ill-fated  Journey — Concealed  in  a  Thicket  — 
Thrciitened  with  Instant  Death  —  Escape  to  a  Friendly  Teepe  —  The 
Old  Chief's  Agony  —  A  Heart-broken  Warrior  —  My  Inability  to  Help 
Him  —  Praying  for  the  "  White  Man's  Road,"  .  .        .87 


CHAPTER  VI. 

RELIGION   OF    THE    INDIAN  — A   STRANGE    FAIXn  — THE   GREAT 
MYSTERY  OF   INDIAN   "MEDICINE." 

The  Indian  Idea  of  God  — The  Good  God  — The  Bad  God  — The  Per- 
petual Struggle  between  Them  —  "The  Happy  Hunting  Grounds" 

—  How  the  Indian  Soul  is  Excluded  from  Paradise  —  Horror  of  Being 
Scalped  —  Desperate  Eilbrts  to  Save  a  Friend's  Soul  —  How  the  Soul 
Escapes  from  the  Body  —  The  Indian  Idea  of  Hell  —  "Good  Med- 
icine "  versus  **  Bad  Medicine  "  —  Ridiculous  Superstition  —  How 
"Medicine"  is  Made  —  Its  Great  Mystery  —  A  Sacred  Secret  —  De- 

.      ciding  on  the  Ingredients  —  Appeasing  the  Wrath  of  the  Bad  God 

—  Sacred  Ponies  —  Driving  a  Sliarp  Bargain  with  the  Devil  — Stick- 
ing to  the  Faith  of  their  Fnthers  —  Spotted  Tail's  Argument  with 
Captain  Rjindall  —  "  Black  Beard  "  —  My  Talk  witli  an  Aged  Chief— 
Who  Made  the  World  ?  —  Fetichism  —  Digger  Indians.    .        .    96 


CHAPTER  VII. 


TIIE   MEDICINE   CHIEF  — HIS    GREAT .  POWER   AND    INFLUENCE  — 
AN  OFFICE  WON  BY  RECKLESS  DARING. 

The  Medicine  Cliief  —  His  Power  and  Standing  in  the  Tribe  —  How  the 
Oflice  is  Won  —  Proving  His  Own  Medicine  —  A  First-Class  Aristo- 
crat —  The  Idol  of  the  Squaws  —  An  Indian  Physician  —  His  knowl- 
edge of  Herbs  —  No  Cure  no  Pay  —  A  Pandemonium  of  Howls  — 
Incantations  Over  the  Sick  —  A  Remedy  Worse  tlian  the  Disease  — 
Heroic  Treatment  —  My  Reception  in  an  Indl.an  Camp  —  Black, 
Beady  Eyes  —  An  Aspirant  for  Fame  —  Sitting  Bull  —  Medicine 
Arrow  —  A  Favorite  of  Fortune  —  The  Most  Remarkable  Chief  of  His 
Time  —  His  Famous  Arrows  —  Arrows  for  Ponies  and  Ponies  for 
Rum  —  End  of  a  Strange  Career  —  Splendid  Types  of  Courage  — . 
The  Charge  on  Forsythe's  Rifle  Pits  —  Indian  Quacks,    .        .114 


"'T^*'  ./;:'"\*'^'TV''?'^~'t'r'  I*' 


.*' 


?:.• 


\ 
>> 


,1 


XVI  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SECRET   RITES   AND    RELIGIOUS   CEREMONIES— AN   INDIAN   MYS- 
TERY—THE   SACRED    "SOMETHING." 

The  Sacred  Conclave  —  IIow  One  of  My  Officers  Gained  Admittance  — 
What  He  Saw  There  —  Curious  Solemnities  —  Sacred  Mysteries  — 
The  Medicine  Pipe  —  ITow  an  Indian  Smokes  a  Cigar  —  A  Blazing 
Stub— IIow  the  Pipe  is  Used  for  Casting  Lots  — IIow  the  Fatal 
Signal  is  Determined  —  Secret  Societies,  Pass  Words,  and  Gri{js  — 
Medicine  Arrow's  Great  Influence  —  The  Sacred  "Something"  — 
What  is  it  ?  —  An  Object  of  Awe  and  Veneration  —  Cai)tur(j  of  the 
Sacred  Symbol  by  the  Pawnees  —  A  Pious  Fraud  —  The  Utes  and  the 
Squat  Stone  —  Its  Capture  by  a  Hostile  Tribe  —  Their  Flight  with  It  — 
Consternation  at  its  Loss  —  AVild  Pursuit  and  Vengeance  —  Burial  of 

'iMed- 
124 


the  Sacred  Insigu' i  —  The  Lost  Treasure  —  Sitting  Bull's 
icine," 


CHAPTER  IX. 

H6CH-fi-A-YUM  — THE  GREAT  MEDICINE    DANCE  — SUFFERING  AND 
ENDURANCE  OF  THE  DANCERS. 

The  Cotton  Wood  Lodge  —  The  Medicine  Dance  —  Prtiparations  for  the 
Cei-emony  —  Extent  of  the  Suflering  Involved  —  In  the  Circle  — The 
Spectators  —  Selection  of  Warriors  for  the  Dance  —  Death  the  Penalty 
of  Failure  —  Stripped  for  the  Struggle  —  Eyes  Fixed  —  The  Sus- 
pended Image — Wild  Enthusiasm  —  The  Dance  of  Endurance  — 
The  Weary  Round  —  Shouts  of  Encouragement  —  Wail  of  the  Scjuaws 
—  An  Exhausted  Dancer  —  Di-agged  from  the  Fatal  Arena  —  The 
Victim  -—  Death  of  the  Dancer  —  The  Furies  of  Ilell  Let  Loose  — 
Fleeing  From  AVrath  —  Rallying  the  Bands— Four  Days'  of  Suffer- 
ing —  Sticking  it  Out  to  the  Bitter  End  —  Recognition  and  Reward  — 
Rushing  in  at  the  Eleventh  Hour  —  Carrying  off  the  Prize,      .    134 


CHAPTER  X. 

INDIAN    METHODS    OF    SELF-TORTURE  — ENDURANCE 
DEFIANCE   OF   PAIN. 


AND 


The  Warrior's  Ordeal  —  Panting  for  the  Knife  —  IIow  Suffering  is  Courted 
—  Stalwart  Endurance  of  Pain  — The  Greatest  of  Indian  Virtues  — 
Remarkable  Religious  Fervor  —  Indian  Pride  in  Self-Torture  —  Prep- 
arations for  the  Trying  Ordeal— Fasting,  Silence,  and  Meditation  — 


:'tei!feSi##3^' 


''*"•■**'  ;*-t  'v'T*if'"^'v 


CONTENTS. 


XVU 


The  Candidates  Brought  before  the  Medicine  Chief — Deciding  on 
the  Kind  and  Amount  of  Torture —  The  Merciless  Thrust  of  the  Knife 
—  Inserting  Horseliair  Ropes  —  Tlie  Wounded  Devotee  —  Muscles 
Torn  from  the  Breast  —  Incredible  Suffering  —  The  Vic  .n's  Tragic 
Efforts  to  Break  Loose  —  Suspended  in  Mid-air  —  Indescribable 
Agonies  —  Lips  that  Never  Murmur — Dressing  the  Woiinds  —  The 
Consequences  of  Flinching  undoi'  the  Knife  —  The  "Sun  Dance" 
of  the  Sioux  —  Expiation  of  Crime  —  Exasperating  Forms  of  Tor- 
ture  146 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  INDIAN'S  LAST  RESTING-PLACE  —  BURIAL  OF  THE  DEAD. 

The  Excitement  Caused  by  a  Death  in  Camp  —  An  Indian  Cemetery  — 
Depositing  the  Body  in  a  Tree  —  The  Burial  Case  —  How  the  Body 
is  Dressed  —  My  Horrible  Discovery  —  Following  the  Trail  —  Another 
Disco  v'eiy  —  The  Dead  Body  of  the  Comanche  War  Chief —  How  He 
Died  —  Ti-eating  His  Body  with  Indignity  —  Comical  Epitaph  — 
Stealing  a  Body  for  Dissection  —  The  Body-Snatchers  at  Work  — 
The  Midnight  Foray  —  Unexpected  Arrival  of  Squaws  —  Consterna- 
tion of  tlie  Thieves  —  Terror  and  Flight  of  the  Women  —  What 
I  saw  in  a  Deserted  IJte  Camp  —  Graves  Safe  from  Moi'tal  Eyes  — 
Secrets  Betrayed  by  Human  Bones  —  Ouray's  Death  —  His  Secret 
Burial  —  Discovery  of  His  Grave, 153 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MOURNING   FOR   THE   DEAD  — HOW  INDIANS  FEEL  AND  SHOW 

THEIR  GRIEF. 

In  "  Sackcloth  and  Ashes  "  —  The  Mark  of  God's  Displeasure  —  Pai'ental 
Anguish  —  Tlie  Death  of  a  Son  —  A  Warrior's  Tearless  Eyes  —  Real 
Grief —  Mourning  for  a  Dead  Wife  —  What  Happens  at  the  Death  of 
a  Chief — How  the  Squaws  Mourn  —  A  Chorus  of  Howls  from  the 
•'Blessed  Sex"  —  Self-Mutilation  —  Inflicting  Ilon-ible  Wounds  — 
A  "Good  Cry"  versus  a  "Good  Howl"  —  Inconsolable  Widows  — 
Midnight  Wails  —  Letting  off  Superfluous  Unhappiness  —  Joining 
in  the  Howl  —  The   "  Luxury  of  Grief"  —  Vigorous  Lamentation 

—  How  an  Indian  Makes  his  Will  —  Scene    at  Ouray's  Death  Bed 

—  His  Will  —  Clamoring  for  the  Destruction  of  his  Property  —  A 
Narrow  Escape  —  The  Sacrifice  of  Seventeen  Horses  —  Firing  the 
Pyre, .    167 

2 


SSiV.sf... 


Xviii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  FUTUEE   LIFE  — THE    INDIAN'S   IDEA   OF   HEAVEN  — THE 
HAPPY  HUNTING  GROUNDS. 

Conceptions   of  the  Hereafter  —  Indian    Ilon-or   of  Being  Strangled 
or  Scalped  Explained  —  An  Eternity  of  Green  Fields  and  Pastures 

—  Equipped  for  the  Long  Jovirney  —  Death  Overcome  —  Touching 
Traits  of  Character— Complete  Oiittit  for  the  Dead  — The  War- 
rioi-'s  Grave  —  Starvation  and  Death  Preferred  to  Robbing  the  Dead 

—  How  Physical  Defects  are  Carried  into  the  Next  World  —  Fate 
of  an  Emaciated  Form  —  Mutilations  of  the  Body  —  Transfixed 
with  Arrows  —  A  Dismal  Superstition  —  Why  Indians  Rarely  Make 
Night  Attacks  — The  Effect  of  Being  Killed  in  the  Dark  —  Crawling 
into  Camp — Stealth  and  Cunning  —  Avenging  the  Slain  —  Incident 
of  the  Campaign  of  1873  —  Fate  of  a  Band  of  Surveyors,       .    175 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  -LIFE  AND  TRAINING   OF  INDIAN  BOYS 

AND  GIRLS. 

The  Redskin  Baby  —  An  Original  Outfit  —  Feathers  and  Fur  —  A  Real 
"  Nest  of  Comfort "  —  Tossed  into  a  Corner  —  "  In  the  Tree  Top  "  — 
Learning  to  Ride  —  Stopping  the  Baby's  Cry  —  A  Novel  Method  — 
Rough  Schooling  —  Adoption  of  Captive  Cliiklren  —  The  Comanche 
Women  —  A  Coveted  Baby  —  Ready  to  Swap  or  Buy  —  An  Inter- 
esting Experience  —  Tlie  Warrior's  Pride  —  A  Touching  Story  — 
Bound  to  the  Stake  —  The  Old  Chief's  Sacrifice  —  Childliood  Sports  — 
Fi'eedom  of  the  Lodge  —  Trained  for  the  Chase  —  Roaming  at  Large 

—  Cold-Blooded  Ati'ocities  —  Daring  Attacks  —  In  Pursuit  of  Fame 

—  A  Momentous  Hour  —  What  I  saw  at  an  Indian  Dance  —  Matri- 
monial   Hankerings  —  Married   at    Sixteen  —  Old  Age  at  Thirty- 


'fi^' 


CHAPTER  X\. 

LOVE-MAKING  IN  AN  INDIAN  CAMP -COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE. 

Indian  Lovers  — Suitors  for  a  Maiden's  Hand  — Going  to  "See  His 
Girl  "  —  At  His  Inamorata's  Lodge  —  "  Tlie  Old  Folks  at  Home  "  — 
Indian  Match-Makers  —  The  First  Real  Meeting  — Picturesque  Re- 
luctance and  a  Pretty  Surrender  — Tete-k-Tete— Engaged  at  Last  — 


•:wy^'*^ 


CONTENTS. 


XIX 


Appearance  of  Rivals  —  An  Indian  Flirt — A  Dozen  Lovers  at  Her 
Feet  —  Competition  tlio  Life  of  Trade  —  Plans  for  the  Wedding  — 
How  Paternal  Consent  is  Obtained —  Indian  Elopements  —  Love  De- 
fiant of  Locks  anil  Bars  —  Escape  from  the  Lodge  —  Flight  and 
Pursuit — Assessing  the  Damages — Tiie  Girl's  Market  Value  —  A 
White  Admirer's  Perfidy  —  Gushing  Frankness  —  An  Unfortunate 
Dilemma  —  "  So  Glad  You  Asked  Mo  "  —  A  Widow's  Pathetic  Ap- 
peal,          190 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


INDIAN   WOMEN  — THEIR   VIRTUES    AND   VICES - 

INDIAN  LODGE. 


•  LIFE    IN   AN 


iIAN  BOYS 


The  Life  of  an  Indian  Woman  —  Where  the  Bead  and  Feather  Work 
Comes  From  —  A  "Model"  Wife  —  A  Squaw's  Right  —  Seeking  a 
New  Husband  —  How  the  Custom  Originated  —  The  Go-Between  — 
Secret  Conferences  —  Winning  the  Affections  of  Another  Man's  Wife 
—  Scandal  in  the  Camp  —  The  Old  Warrior's  Darling  —  Flight  with  a 
Youthful  Admirer  —  The  Honey-Moon  —  Housekeeping  in  a  Friendly 
Teepe  —  A  Dark  Day  —  A  Terrible  Punishment  —  Tickling  a  Girl's 
Vanity  —  Liaisons  Among  the  Arrapahoes  —  Curious  Safeguards  — 
The  Stoiy  of  Powder  Face  —  A  Notable  Couple  —  A  Precocious  Young 
Rascal  —  First-Class  Sensation  —  Madmen  and  Idiots  —  A  Professional 
Tramp  —  His  Capture  by  Hostile  Sioux,  ....    200 


^^& 


;V--| 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

INDIAN   NAMES,  TITLES,   AND    EPITHETS  —  TIIEm  MEANING  AND 
SIGNIFICANCE.  -  THE  TOTEM. 


Indian  Idea  of  their  Origin  — Traditions  —  The  Family  Coat  of  Arms  — 
The  Totem,  and  What  It  Is  —  Surnames  —  Pet  Names  —  Titles  •— 
Nicknames  —  P.alpable  Hits  —  The  Original  "  Punch  "  —  Odd  Traits 
and  Fancies  Indicated  by  Names  —  Why  Indians  Name  Themselves 
—  Curious  Titles —  "  White  Eagle"  — "Lone  Wolf "  —  "  Yellow 
Bear  "  —  "  Powder  Face  "  —  "  Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses  "  —  Loafing 
"Jims"  and  Indolent  "Tonys"  —  Unblushing  Beggary  —  Eff'ect  of 
Incident  and  Adventure  —  An  111- Fated  Expedition  —  An  Unsolved 
Mystery  —  The  Place  of  Lost  Souls  —  he  "  Great  American  Bull- 
Whacker" —  The  "Picketwire"  —  Indian  Nicknames  of  Army  Offi- 
cers —  Ridiculous  Appellations  —  Gray  Beai'd  —  General  Crook's 
Indian  Name  — Why  they  Call  Him  "The  Gray  Fox,"       .     216 


m 


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"^^Ste? 


E 


/ 


CONTENTS. 


■■■..■^'""*'7"'  '  ^': 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

EVERYDAY  INDIAN  LIFE -SIGHTS   AND   SCENES  IN  INDIAN 
HOMES,  TEEPES,  AND  WINTER  CAMPS. 

An  Indian  Ttepo  — How  it  is  Mivdo  — Tho  "  Wlcl<y-Up  "  —  Its  Con- 
struction —  Teepe  Fm-nialiings  —  Beds  that  are  Never  "Made  Up"— 
Meal  Hours  —  The  Luxury  of  Baiter's  Bread  —  Indian  H^pitality  — 
The  First  Chance  at  the  Pot— Scenting  a  Dinner  from  ARr  — Enter- 
taining You  To-day  and  Taking  Your  Scalp  To-monow  —  How 
Indians  Select  a  Caraping-riace— Looking  Out  for  Danger  — The 
•'  Public  Square  "  and  Crier  —  Selecting  a  Site  for  the  Winter  Camp 
—  An  Indian  Village  —  General  Custer's  Exploit  — His  Fortunate 
Escape  — A  Cold-Blooded  Ruffian  — Paid  "by  tho  Scalp"— Two 
Hundred  and  Fifty  Scalps  at  One  Fight  —  Days  and  Nights  of 
Feasting  and  Revelry  ~  "  Love  Rules  tho  Camp "  — Sketches  from 
Life, 224 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

INDIAN    SKn.L   AND    HANDIWORK- OCCUPATIONS    OF   CAMP   AND 

LODGE. 

'.r  Winter  Quarters  —  Preparations  for  War  and  the  Chase  —  IIow 
ludian  Saddles  and  Bridles  are  made  —  The  Mexican  Device  — 
Fancy  Reins  —  The  Art  of  Plaiting  Horsehair  —  The  Lariat  and  the 
Lasso  — How  They  are  Made—  A  Winter's  Task  — The  Great  Fall 
Hunt  —  Scenes  of  Joy  and  Excitemen^  —  Preserved  Buffalo  —  Real 
Indian  Bread  —  Skill  in  Dressing  Skins  —  Family  Heirlooms  —  The 
Elkhom  Handle  —  A  Priceless  Treasure —  A  Suit  of  Deer-skin  — 
Original  Needlework  —  Spending  a  Year  on  a  Single  Garaient — 
Bead  Work  —  Beautiful  Ornamentation  —  Behind  the  Plough  —  The 
Indian  Maiden  of  Fiction  —  Wrestling  with  the  Sportive  Hoe  —  A 
Square  Day's  Work  —  The  Chopping  Match  —  Startling  Facts,    250 


CHAPTER  XX. 

TRADE  AND   BARTER— THE   VICTIMS   AND   PREY   OF   INDIAN 

"  TRADERS."  • 

Systems  of  Barter  — "Sold  Out"  — Fleeced  and  Victimized  by  the 
"Trader"  — Indian  Wants  and  Necessities— The  Charm  of  Nov- 
elty—An  Incident  at  Fort  Sedgwick  — The  Ornamented  Buflalo 


wmm 


CONTENTS. 


XXl 


INDIAN 


—  Its  Con- 
lade  Up"— 
^pitality  — 
Hr  —  Entor- 

row —  I  low 
mf;:er  —  The 
Hnter  Camp 
8  Fortunate 
alp"— Two 
Nights  of 
letches  from 
224 


CAMP  AND 


!hase  —  IIow 
n  Device  — 
riat  and  the 
3  Great  Fall 
ifialo  —  Real 
ooms  —  The 
Peer-skin  — 
Garment  — 
lough  — The 
ire  Hoe  —  A 
acts,    250 


INDIAN 


zed  by  the 
rm  of  Nov- 
ited  Buffalo 


4tii>;4'j;!i-:',.iAiv:i;.^- 


Aobe  —  A  Wai-rlor  with  n  Sweet  Tooth  —  The  First  Lot  of  Matches  — 
An  Astonished  Indian  —  Curiosity  Aroused  —  A  Wonderful  Box  — 
Testing  the  Matches  One  by  One  —  Scorched  Fingers  —  My  Treasures 
from  the  Utc  Campaign  —  Blanket  of  Rare  Beauty  and  Design  —  A 
Dishonored  Statute  —  The  Trapper  Tliirty  Years  Ago  —  Domieiled 
with  Savages  —  A  Wild  Free  Life  — Admitted  to  the  Indian  Brother- 
hood—  Sliaring  Hairbreadth  Escapes  —  The  Gaming  Tal)le  —  Tlie 
Trader's  Grip  on  the  Red  Man's  Tliroat  —  Barefaced  Swindling —  An 
Open  and  Shut  Game  —  Ilobson's  Choice  —  The  Traders'  Trey,     2G1 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

INDL\N   COOKS    AND   COOKINC;  — FAVORITE   FOOD    AND    ODD 
DISHES  —  AMUSING  FXI'EUIENTES. 

Indian  Cooks  —  TeejM)  Manners  —  "Fingers  i)efore  Forks"  —  The 
"  Tonisli  "  Thing  in  Serving  —  How  Indians  Cook  for  Themselves  — 
An  OlV-IIand  Roast  —  Tiio  Marrow-Bones  —  The  Choicest  Bonno 
BomcIh!  —  Enormous  Feeders  —  Eating  Twenty  Pounds  at  One  Meal  — 
Gluttony  of  the  Red  Skins — Tlio  Call  for  More  —  Cunning  and 
Strategy  —  Accumulated  Breakfasts  —  An  Astonisliing  Appetite  — 
Job's  Turkey  —  A  Tougli  One  —  An  Abandoned  Fowl  —  An  Odd 
Sui)erstition  —  Unblusliing  Clieek  —  Eating  Ten  Feet  of  MaiTow 
Guts  —  The  Use  of  Salt  —  Red  Pepper  and  Black  —  Selection  of  the 
Entrails  —  The  Indian's  Most  Delicious  Morsel  —  My  Invitation  to 
Dine  with  the  Pawnee  Chief — A  Disgusting  Repast  —  Dog  Flesh  — 
Fat  Puppy  —  Skunk  —  My  Interview  with  Stone  Calf,     .        .     271 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  BUFFALO  AND  ITS  DESTRUCTION  — THE  INDIAN'S   GREAT 
FALL  HUNT  — EXCITING  ADVENTURES. 

The  Indian  and  the  Buffalo  — The  Old  Days  of  Plenty  —  Habits  and 
Instincts  —  Immense  Herds  —  A  Column  Fifty  Miles  Wide,  and 
of  Unknown  Depth  —  A  Thrilling  Adventure  at  Pawnee  Rock  — 
Danger  from  a  Stampeded  Herd  —  "  Splitting  "  the  Column  —  Safe 
at  Last  —  Scenes  of  Wild  Animation  —  Mistaken  Ideas  of  Old  Plains- 
men—IIow  the  Indians  Hunt  Buffalo  — The  "SuiTound"  —  Closing 
In  for  the  Attack  —  The  Signal  — Wild  Onset  of  Wan'ioi-s  —  Desperate 
Resistance  —  The  Slaughter  —  The  Sioux  Plan  —  My  Camp  on  Big 
Coon  Creek  —  My  Adventure  with  a  Panic-stricken  Herd  —  A  Camp 
Aroused  at  Midnight  —  Hairbreadth  Escape  —  The  Extinction  of  the 
Buffalo — Wanton  Slaughter  —  Barbarous  Practices,       .        .    282 


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XXii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

CLOTHING,   FINERY,   AND  PERSONAL  ADORNMENT   OF  ETDIANS. 

The  Breech-cloth  — Donning  a  "Biled"  Shirt— How  Little  Raven 
"Received"  —  "Fixed  up"  for  White  Company  —  Ludicrous  Com- 
binations —  Remarkal)le  Appearance  of  Turkey  Leg  in  Council  — 
The  Green  Veil  and  Stove-Pi pc  Hat— Bugbeare  of  Indian  Life  — 
A  DisgusttM  Warrior  —  Ceremonial  Costumes  —  Fringe  Made  of 
Scalp  Locks  — Dressing  the  Hair  — The  "Pig-tail"  Style  — The 
Receptacle  for  Odds  and  Ends  —  Female  Attire  —  The  Buckskin  Skirt 
and  Jacket  — The  Kirtle  of  Fringe  —  How  Indians  Pnint  their  Bmlies 
—  Bracelets  and  Beadwork  — A  Good  Story  — The  Captain's  False 
Teeth  — A  Cheyenne  Chief's  Glass  Eye  — Terror  Caused  by  itJ" 
Removal  — Kicked  out  of  Camp  as  Doubtful  "Medicine,"     .    297 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

DISEASE   AND   DEATH  — TIIE    STRUGGLE    FOR   EXISTENCE. 

Homesickness  —  Driven  from  Pillar  to  Post  —  Fate  of  the  Pawnees  — 
Frightful  Mortality  —  The  "Policy"  that  Drives  Indians  to  Despera- 
tion—  The  Only  Misfoi'tunc  Over  which  an  Indian  Broods  —  Rude 
Remedies  —  The  Sweat  House  —  A  Cold  Plunge — Disease  among 
Indian  Children  —  A  Shocking  Surpicion  —  Wild  Flight  —  Super- 
stitious Terror  —  Abject  Prostration  and  Alarm  —  The  Wail  of  De- 
spair —  Dead  and  Dying  Left  by  the  Wayside  —  Scenes  of  Indescribable 
Horror  —  Hydrophobia  —  Curious  Facts  Concerning  the  Bite  of  a 
Skunk  —  Awaiting  the  Worst  of  Fates  —  Suicide — Defiance  of  Tor- 
ture—  Preparing  for  a  Desperate  Raid —  Shot  Dead  in  liis  Saddle  — 
Deathbed  Scenes  —  Chanting  the  Death  Song  —  The  Final  Fare- 
well  311 


INDT 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

GAUIBLERS  — THEIR   GAMES    OF    SKILL  AND  CHANCE- 
DRUNKENNESS  —  SCENES  FROM  LIFE. 


Indian  Gamblers  —  A  Favorite  Pastime  —  Preparations  for  the  Game  — 
The  Stakes  — The  Whirlpool  of  Fortune  — An  Exciting  Contest- 
Dexterous  Manipulation  —  Counting  the  Points  —  Sweeping  the 
Stakes  —  Experts  with  Cards  —  The  Mysteries  of  "  Monte  "  —  "  Ways 
that  aie  Daik "  — Cheating  a  Fine  Ait  — The   Loaded   Hand  — 


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CONTENTS. 


XXIU 


OF  niDIANS. 

Little  Raven 
idicroiis  Com- 

in  Council  — 

ndian  Life  — 
njre  ]\Iiide  of 
Style  — The 
Buckskin  Skirt 
nt  tlicir  Bodies 
aptiiin's  False 

aused    by   ha 


le,' 


297 


nSTENCE. 

lie  Pawnees  — 
ms  to  Despera- 
Broods  —  Kude 
•isease   among 
'light  — Super- 
e  Wail  of  De- 
"  Indescribable 
:he  Bite  of  a 
ifiance  of  Tov- 
i  his  Saddle  — 
i  Final  Fare- 
.    311 


CHANCE— 

■  the  Game  — 

ig  Contest — 
weeping  the 
e"  — "Ways 
led   Hand  — 


Hbavy  Stakes  —  Bad  Luck  —  Wives  and  Children  Lost  —  The  Co- 
manche Gambler  —  The  Fatal  Throw  —  Gambling  Customs  — 
"  Passing  the  Bono  "  —  In  a  Whirl  of  Excitement  —  Aboriginal 
Dice  —  Lucky  Numbers  —  Favorite  Gams  with  the  Cheyenne  Wo- 
men—  Born  and  Bred  Swindlers -- Anything  for  Whiskey  — 
Enjoying  his  Whiskey  Alone  —  Sneaking  off  for  a  Debauch  — 
A  Sound  Thrashing  —  A  Blubbering  Warrior,        .        .        .    325 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

INDLIN  AMUSEMENTS  AND  SPORTS  — WONDERFUL  FEATS  AND 
MARVELLOUS  EXPLOITS. 

An  Indian  Story  Teller  —  The  Favorite  of  the  Women  —  The  Sign 
Language  —  Outdoor  Sports  —  Life  in  the  Saddle  —  Wonderful 
Feats  of  Horsemanship  —  Marvellous  Exploits  at  Full  Gallop  — 
Novel  Races  —  An  Arrant  Jockey  —  Tricks  of  the  Trade  —  An  Adroit 
Comanche  —  Mu-La-Que-Top's  Scheme  —  Sharp  Practice  —  A  Sheep 
of  a  Pony  against  a  Iventucky  Mare  —  Fastest  Race  on  Record  — 
A  Put-up  Job  —  Disgusted  Army  Officers  —  Bow  and  Arrow  Games  — 
Scandal  Mongers  —  Indian  Rumors  —  The  Outbreak  at  Fort  Reno  — 
Beating  the  Telegi-aph  —  Incredible  Despatch  —  Scouts  and  Run- 
ners —  Something  New  about  Wives  —  Squaw  Fights  —  Off  with 
the  Wrong  Man  —  Facing  the  Consequences  —  An  Unequal  Con- 
test,   336 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

INDIAN   MUSIC   AND    MUSICIANS  -  CURIOUS   MUSICAL  INSTRU- 
MENTS-POETRY AND  SONGS. 

Indian  Musical  Instruments  —  The  Cheyenne  Tom-tom  —  A  Curious 
Work  —  Constructive  Skill  —  My  Wonderful  Present  —  The  Sioux 
Rattle  —  "  Flutes  and  Soft  Recorders  "  — Weird  but  Winsome  Notes  — 
^j-n  Indian  Serenade  —  The  War  Song — The  Indian  "German"  — 
Thrilled  with  Military  Frenzy  —  Transported  with  Adoration  — 
"  Songs  Without  Words  "  —  Permanence  of  Indian  Music  —  The 
Celebration  of  Valor  —  Selection  of  the  Tune  —  Fitting  the  Words  — 
Practising  in  Chorus  —  Night  After  Night  at  Work  —  The  Song 
Completed  —  Odd  Indian  Melodies  —  Every  One  His  Own  Poet  — 
The  Cheyenne  Courting  Song  —  Winning  a  Married  Woman's 
Love  —  The  Conditional  Elopement  —  The  Round  Dance  —  Music 
of  the  Kiss  Dance  —  Wild  Notes  Recovered  —  An  Interesting  Re- 
sult  S18 


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XXIV 


INDIAN  DANCES 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

-SCENES  OF  WILD  EXCITEMENT  AND  FEENZY  — 
LUDICROUS  EXPERIENCES. 


Indian  Dancing  Customs  —  Preparations  for  the  Scalp  Dance  —  A  Hid- 
eous Picture  —  Tlie  Circle  of  Wands  —  On  the  Border  of  Frenzy  — 
Bringing  Out  Old  Scalps  —  Enlisting  for  the  War  —  "  Striking  the 
Post "  —  My  First  Sight  of  a  Scalp  Dance  -  -  Prisoners  Gracing  the 
Ceremony  —  A  Boy's  Pluck  —  Exasperated  by  Ridicule  —  Begging 
Dance  —  Reconciling  Old  Foes  —  Interesting  Incident  of  Crook's 
Campaign  —  Indian  Dii)lomacy  —  Disastrous  Blow  to  New-made 
Friends  —  Impoverished  by  Hugs  — The  Lost  Chance — Ar  Eveiy- 
day  Scene  —  Virtue  and  Vice  Side  by  Side  —  Stolen  Bodily  from  tlie 
Indians  —  The  Sign  Dance  —  Tlie  "  Kissing  Dance  "  —  Mischiev- 
ous Couples  —  Practical  Jokes  —  The  Indian  Love  of  Humor  — 
Ludici'ous  Experiences  —  A  Delicious  Bit  of  Masquerading,   .    356 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


THE   SIGN  LANGUAGE - 


-WONDERFUL   EXPERTNESS  OF   INDLAN 
SIGN-TALliERS. 


The  Need  of  a  Common  Language  —  The  Great  Battle  Ground  of  the 
Plains  —  The  Struggle  for  Existence  —  Imperilled  Interests  —  A 
Question  of  Fate  —  Desperate  Encounters  —  Common  Methods  of 
Communication  —  Signs  and  Gestures  —  Origin  and  Extent  of  the 
System  —  The  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahocs  —  Enforced  Companion- 
ship —  Fighting,  Racing  and  Gambling  Together  —  Ignorance  of 
Signs  Among  the  Utes  —  Ouray's  Explanation  —  Sign  Pictures  — 
Rank  of  tiie  Kiowas  as  Founders  of  the  System  —  Oral  Language  — 
Skeleton  Forms  of  Speech  -  -  Individual  Styles  —  First  Lessons  in 
Signs  —  Curious  and  Interesting  Illustrations  —  A  Powerful  Sys- 
tem —  Its  Effect  upon  Indian  Life  —  Tlie  Expert  Sign-talker  — 
Conversation  under  Difficulties  —  Talking  under  a  Blanket,   .    379 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

INDIAN  CHRONOLOGY— DEVICES  FOR  RECKONING  IIME- KEEPING 
TRACK  OF  TIIE  YEARS. 

Keeping  Track  of  the  Years  — Counting  by  "D.ays,"  "Sleeps," 
"Moons,"  and  "Winters,"  — My  Personal  Observations  —  The  Fruits 
of  Research—  The   Moon  when   Corn    is    Planted  — New  Year's 


■.-.-.A. . 


;^Vi'":«5*f'^i^*'.  ■f^'- 


■''^''-'tf^^ii^t^X''-'"  >■'^■ 


•^Vyr;T'"V"'-  j<^  'j^*'*^;  C'^iM-i'-^'-    f*l'  ..',■  'J  ?!.;' 


CONTENTS. 


XXV 


D  FEENZY— 

nee  —  A  Hid- 

of  Frenzy  — 

Striking  the 

Gracing  the 

le  —  Begging 

it  of  Croolt's 

o   New-made 

—  Ar  Every - 

)dily  from  the 

—  Mischiev- 

of  Humor  — 

ing,   .    356 


OF  INDIAN 


Ground  of  the 
[nterests  —  A 
Methods  of 
■Extent  of  the 
I  ConijKinion- 
Ignorance  of 
n  Pictures  — 
Language  — 
it  Lessons  in 
o wilful  Sys- 
iign-talker  — 
ket,   .    379 


E- KEEPING 

"  "  Sleeps," 
—  The  Fruits 
■New  Year's 


Day  —  The  First  Snow-fall  —  A  Puzzling  Interview  —  An  Old  Chey- 
enne's Opinion  —  "  Some  Years  Have  More  Moons  than  Others  "  — 
The  S.oux  Calendar— A  Wonderful  Chronological  Chart  — In  the 
Hands  of  Curiosity-hunters  —  Excited  Hopes  —  Provoking  Revela- 
tions—  Fac  Simile  of  the  Calendar  —  Seventy  Years  in  a  Nul^sheil  — 
Tell-tale  Hieroglyphics  —  Solution  of  the  Mysteiy  —  Applying  the 
Key  — Finding  an  Old  Woman  in  f  ^uft'alo  — Old  Folk  Lore  — A 
Legend  of  the  Pacific  Coast  — A  "Boston  Man,"     .        .        .395 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

INDIAN  ART  AND  ARTISTS  — SIGNIFICATION   OF   THEIR  PICTURES 

AND  INSCRIPTIONS. 

Progi-ess  in  the  Arts  —  Semi-Civilized  Indians  —  Obtaining  an  Educa- 
tion —  Their  Knowledge  of  the  Industrial  and  Mechanic  Arts  —  The 
Pi'cblos — Spinning,  Weaving  and  Tailoring  —  The  Navahoes  —  How 
their  Dwellings  are  Constructed  —  Beautj'  .and  Excellence  of  their 
Blankets  —  Tlie  Apaches  —  Canoes  of  Bark  —  Adepts  at  Carving  — 
The  Making  and  Ornamentation  of  Pipes  —  Bead-work,  Paint, 
Feathers,  and  Fringes  —  Indian  Artists  —  Their  Delight  at  Pictures  — 
Portraying  tlieir  Remarkable!  Exploits  —  My  Exploring  Expedition  to 
the  Black  Hills  —  What  I  Found  under  a  Cairn  of  Stones  —  Indian 
Hieroglypliics  —  Inscriptions  on  Rocks  and  Trees  —  Indian  Signa- 
tures —  IIow  Warriors  Keep  a  Record  of  their  Lives  —  Indian 
Pictures 406 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

INDIAN  WEAPONS  — now  TIIEY  ARE  MADE  — SKILL  AND  EXPERT- 

NESS  IN  THEIR  USE. 

Bows  and  Arrows  —  How  Indian  Boys  Learn  to  Use  them  —  Forays  for 
Scalps  and  Plunder  —  The  First  Gun  —  An  Incident  of  My  first  Fight 
witii  Indians  —  Why  Tliey  Still  Cling  to  the  Bow — IIow  the  Bow  is 
Made  —  Its  Strength  and  Elasticity  -  Arrows  and  How  they 
are  Made  —  Their  Penetrating  Power  —  War  Arrows  —  Indian 
Marksman  —  Beaten  by  a  Wiiito  Alan  —  The  War  Club  —  The 
Tomahawk  —  Tlie  Scalping  Knife  —  "Keen  as  a  Razor" — The 
Lance  —  A  Formidable  Weapon  —  The  Shield  —  Patience,  Care,  and 
Thought  Bestowed  upon  its  Manufacture  —  How  the  Indians  Obtain 
their  Firearms — A  Party  of  Sioux  Visit  my  Camp  —  A  Well- Armed 
WaiTior — Fate  of  a  Wealthy  Sportsman 415 


■■*!-'. 


i 


•v. 


^^i 


ij§^ 


■^ 

f!-^ 


t|v>-. 


:;^«:^ 

^^4 


.". ' '  h'*'^  ' '  — ''•]W*  V*'^^*' '  '■'v'i'' 


Iv;^^ 


"*•■' 


;.-t; 


>---»;'i^  ■  ■..-7'.    ;,•;/   ,  '  ■■■;■  ,-- '"t" " .v 


XXVi  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

INDIAN  DRILL -SIGNAL   FIRES  AND   SMOKES  -  WONDERFUL 
METHODS  OF  COMMUNICATION. 

How  Indian  Boys  Learn  to  Ride  — Testing  the  Speed  of  Eveiy  Horse  — 
The  Most  Skilful  Riders  in  the  World  —  Indian  Boys'  Fun  — In  for  a 
Good  Time  — Making  Bets—  In  Search  of  Adventure  —  How  Indians 
Drill  — Show  Drills  —  Secret  Signals  —  Sacredness  of  an  Indian  Oath 
—  "I  have  Sworn  "  —  A  Well-gnarded  ]\Iystery~  How  Warriors  are 
Drilled  with  a  Tiece  of  Looking-glass  —  The  Best  Cavalry  in  the 
■VVorld  —  Indian  Methods  of  Communication  at  Long  Distances  —  How 
it  is  Done  —  Signal  Smokes  —  Their  Variety  and  What  they  Mean  — 
Night  Signals  —  Signal  Fires  —  Indian  Scouts  —  Wonderful  System 
of  Telegraphing  —  Marvellous  Feats  of  Horsemanship  —  Practising 
at  Carrying  off  the  Dead  and  Wounded, 425 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

INDLVN  FIGHTING  — TIIEIR  MODE  OF  WARFARE  — THRILLING  AD- 
VENTURES AND  EXPERIENCES. 

Indian  Courage,  Craft,  Patience  and  Cunning  —  The  EffecL  of  Surprise 

—  Their  Fights  with  Each  Other  —  Danger  from  a  Wounded  Indian 

—  Tenacity  of  Life  — My  Command  Ordered  to  Protect  a  Railroad  — 
The  "Talking  AVire  "  —  Discovering  the  Position  of  the  Enemy  — 
Indian  Strategy  —  The  Battle  of  the  Rosebud  under  Gen.  Crook —  A 
Terrible  Conflict  — The  "  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  "  —  Personal 
Experiences  —  "  .Tumped  "  by  Indians  —  A  Thrilling  Adventure  — 
Surrounded  by  Sixty  Hostile  Sioux  —  An  Exciting  Experience  — 
Charge  of  the  Yelling  Savages  —  We  are  Again  Surrounded — A 
Narrow  Escape  —  My  Adventure  near  Fort  Dodge  —  Preparations 
for  the  Fight — Stowing  away  ".Tulia" — A  Ludicrous  Experience 

—  Diplomacy  Saves  our  Lives  —  A  Disgusted  Indian,     .        .    435 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ARMY  LIFE  ON   THE    PLAINS  —  TIIRHXING  ADVENTURES   AMONG 

THE   INDIANt,. 

The  Real  Pioneer  —  General  Custer's  AttJick  on  Black  Kettle  —  A  Des- 
perate Conflict  —  Undaunted  Savages  —  The  Story  of  the  Massacre 
of  Major  Elliott  and  His  Nineteen  Men  —  Three  Thousand  Warriors 


•i»r>'!.'\'ri!"'»'.' ' 


,t  - ".  K  p'-j'';'  i.">)y-",  r*;'T';f?'!v 


:>>• 


W'*.; 


CONTENTS. 


XXVU 


IDERFUL 


eiy  Horse  — 

in  —  In  for  a 

low  Indians 

Indian  Oath 

Varrioi's  are 

iilry  in  the 

nces  —  How 

ley  Mean  — 

3rfiil  System 

—  Practising 

.    425 


ELLING  AD- 


L  of  Surprise 
inded  Indian 
I  Raih'oad  — 
le  Enemy  — 
.  Crook  —  A 
'  —  Personal 
^dventiu-e  — 
xperience  — 
■ounded  —  A 
Preparations 
Experience 
,    435 


lES  AMONG 


le  —  A  Des- 
he  Massacre 
md  Warriors 


Rush  to  the  Assistance  of  Black  Kettle — Wild  Alarm  — The  Indians 
surround  Major  Elliott's  Command  —  IT-»sty  Preparations  for  the  Worst 

—  AtUicked  on  all  Sides — The  Fight  for  Life — The  Death  of  Twenty 
Brave  Men  —  The  Li.st  One  to  Die  —  Courage  and  Heroism  of 
Sergeant '  'ajor  Kennedy —  Alone,  Sabre  in  Hand  —  Exulting  Savages 

—  Inviting  Instant  Death  —  Kennedy  Suddenly  Kills  a  Chief — An 
Instant  o*"  Torj-'fied  Surprise  —  Death  of  Ivennedy,  Pierced  by  Twenty 
Bullets  — The  Battle  of  White  Stone  Hill  — Every  Man  for  Him- 
self,      468 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

ARMY  EXPERIENCES  ON  THE  FRONTIER  — POWELL'S  FIGHT  — THE 
HEROISM  OF  TIURTY-TWO  MEN. 

The  Phil  Kearney  Massacre  —  Annihilation  of  the  Whites  —  Prepara- 
tions to  Strike  Back — Red  Cloud's  Resentment  —  War  to  the  Knife  — 
The  Situation  at  Fort  Phil  Kearney  —  Majjr  Powell  Ordered  to  Piney 
Island  —  Surrounded  by  Indians  —  Improvised  Defences  —  Iron  Walls 
and  Breech-loaders  —  The  Heroism  of  Thirty-two  Men  —  Cool 
Heads,  Bravo  Hearts,  and  Steady  Nerves  —  The  Carnival  of  Death  — 
Repulse  with  Desperate  Loss  —  Red  Cloud's  Consternation  —  The 
Bloodthirsty  Advance  —  Awaiting  the  Deadly  Onset  —  Heroic  De- 
fence of  the  Corral  —  Routed  and  Driven  Back  —  Recoverins-  the 
Wounded  —  Dragging  off  the  Dead  —  The  Gallant  Band  Relieved  — 
An  Old  Trapper's  Story  of  the  Fight 478 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

GENERAL  MACKENZIE'S  FIGHT  WITH   THE    CHEYENNES— A  DES- 
PERATE HAND  TO  HAND  COMBAT. 

• 

Indian  Tactics  —  Surprises  and  Ambuscades — Attacking  Detachments 
in  Detail  —  Appalling  Massacres  —  Courage  and  Craft  —  The  Night 
March  —  General  Crook's  Indian  Allies  —  Pursuit  of  Crazy  Horse  — 
His  Escape  —  Discovery  of  the  Cheyenne  Encampment  —  A  Night  of 
Horror  —  The  Surprise  at  Daybreak  —  Desperate  Attack  and  Re- 
sistance —  Hand  to  Hand  Combat  —  Death  of  Dull  Knife's  Favorite 
Son  —  Holding  the  Victors  at  Bay  —  Lieutenant  McKinney's  Splendid 
Dasii  —  The  Dead  Hero  —  Reinforcements  Summoned  —  My  Com- 
mand Ordered  Forward  —  Our  Forced  March  in  the  Dead  of  Winter  — 
We  Lose  the  Trail —  Sleeping  on  the  Snow  —  Flight  of  the  Indians  — 
Untold  Hardships  Endm-ed  —  The  Fatal  Route,       .        .        .    490 


'I 


m 


'%. 


■..«/!■■: 


■;V. 


■;^. 


■n 


"c:s 


f^x^ 


;■«>■ 


^^c 


"■^JSt. 


•i  i""'  ^.,.'*  •!*  ■ 


M 


..->•..?")■■■     ■  ""S'.-" 


XXViii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

WINTER  ON  THE  PLAINS  — ITS  DANGERS  AND  HARDSHIPS- 
DENTS  AND  PERSONAL  EXPERIENCES. 


■iNa- 


Difflculty  of  Surprising  Indians  —  Starvation  and  Cold  their  Worst 
Enemies  —  Tlie  Remarkable  Winters  of  tiie  Plains  —  Piercing  Winds 
— Excessive  Cold  —  Certain  Death  to  Every  Exposed  Living  Thing 
—  Flying  to  Shelter —  A  "Norther"— Terrible  Hardships  and  Suffer- 
ings of  Fifteen  Men  —  Braving  the  Dangers  of  the  Elements  — 
The  Pluck  of  Captain  Mix — Threats  of  Instant  Death  —  An  In- 
cident in  My  Own  Experience  —  Iloi-ses  Frozen  to  Death  —  A  Stir- 
ring Incident — Captain  Henry's  Experience — In  the  Teeth  of  a 
Furious  "  Norther  "  — Wandering  Blindly  through  tlie  Snow  —  Iloi-ses 
Frantic  Avith  Cold  —  Hands  and  Faces  Frozen  —  Utter  Helplessness 
of  the  Party  —  Looking  Death  in  tlie  Face  —  The  Race  for  Life,  501 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

TAKING    THE    SCALP  — HOW  AND    WHY  IT    IS    DONE— THRILLING 

INCIDENTS. 

The  Indian  Custom  of  Taking  the  Scalp  — Origin  of  the  Practice  — 
What  Becomes  of  the  Scalps  —  Strange  Superstition  attached  to  them 
—  The  Head  Chief  of  the  Pawnees  Pays  me  a  Visit —  Ho  Discloses 
a  Freshly  Taken  Scalp  —  A  strange  Performance  —  How  the  Paw- 
•  nees  Wear  their  Hair — Custom  of  the  Chctyennes,  Arrajjahoes, 
Kiowas  and  Comanches  —  How  the  Scalp  is  Taken  —  Different  ways 
of  Doing  it  — Taking  the  Ears  with  it— What  T  wiw  in  an  Indian 
Camp— Wliy  Colored  Soldiers  are  never  Scalped  —  Mutilation  of  the 
Body — Why  General  Ouster's  Body  was  not  Scalped  —  Sam  CheiTy 
the  Guide  —  A  Thrilling  Incident —  Fears  for  his  Safety  —  Working 
Out  tlie  Stoiy  of  the  Tragedy  —  His  Last  Shot,       .        .        .612 


CHAPTER  XL 

PRISONERS  AMONG    INDIANS  —  VICTIMS    FOR    THE    TORTURE  — 
CAPTIVE  WOMEN  AND  CHILDREN. 

Certain  Fate  of  Captives  —Held  only  for  Torture  —  Savage  Instincts  — 
Delight  in  the  Agonies  of  his  Enemy —  Torture  by  Fire —  Terrible 
Face  of  a  Little  Drummer  Boy  — Human  Fiends  — Tied  to  a  Tree  — 
Setting  Fire  to  Pino  linots  Stuck  in  His  Body  —  Sufferings  of  the 


yW:'' ''.-' 


;iif  :]'->:  Sf'i'j,^ 


'''fi^'''J'*\-"^'«''?*'^-^V^i'''«''"'''S7'V?W*X"'~ '***'•"  T'"'''.V^"''  ■' '  '■' 


CONTENTS. 


XXIX 


IDSIIIPS- 

-INCT- 

5. 

)kl    their 

Worst 

-Pioix'inp 

Winds 

d  Living 

Tliin- 

ships  and  Siifl'er- 

tho    Elements  — 

Death  — 

An  In- 

Death  — 

A  Stir- 

the  Teetli  of  a 

D  Snow  — 

Iloi-ses 

ter  Ilelpl 

essness 

!e  for  Life, 

501 

IE— THRILLING 


f  the  Practice  — 
1  attaclied  to  tliom 
t —  Ho  Discloses 
-How  the  Paw- 
les,  Arrai)a]ioes, 
—  Different  ways 
iw  in  an  Indian 
Mutilation  of  the 
d  —  Sam  CheiTy 
ifety  —  "Working 
.    612 


3   TORTURE  — 


rage  Instincts  — 

Fire- Terrible 

'ied  to  a  Tree  — 

sufferings  of  the 


Poor  Boy  —  Death's  Relief—  "  Staked  Out "  —  Devilish  Ingenuity  — 
Horrible  Brutality  —  Building  a  Fire  on  the  Breast  of  Living  Victims 

—  Female  Captives  —  A  Fate  worse  than  Death  —  Unhappy  Slaves 

—  A  Favorite  Stake  at  the  Gambling-Board  —  Passing  from  Hand  to 
Hand  —  A  dozen  Ownera  in  a  Single  Day  —  A  Terrible  Situation  — 
Giving  up  Pi'isoners  —  Experiences  of  Three  White  Women  Captives 

—  A  Story  of  Horrors  —  Captive  Children  —  Their  Fate,       .    623 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE  CAPTIVE'S  FATE  — INDIAN   CRUELTY   AND   HORRIBLE  DE- 
VICES OF  TORTURE  —  TRAGEDIES. 

The  Indian's  Chief  Pleasure  in  Life  —  Relishing  the  Agony  of  a  Vic- 
tim —  Craelty  to  Animals  —  Indian  Women  in  the  Role  of  Torturers  — 
Hellish  Ingenuity  —  Exultation  over  a  Captive  —  Cruelty  of  the 
Apaches  —  The  Fate  of  Chihuahua  —  A  Band  of  Fiends  —  Bound 
Naked  to  the  Cactus  —  Left  to  Die  —  The  Fate  of  Captive  Women  — 
Bondage  Worse  than  Death  —  An  Exciting  Scene  —  Horrible  Cruel- 
ties  —  New  Devices  of  Torture  —  Experimenting  with  Prisoners  — 
Dissecting  Living  Human  Beings  —  Torture  of  a  Mexican  Captive  — 
Digging  His  Own  Grave  —  Buried  Alive  with  the  Head  Out  of 
Ground  —  Partial  Flaying — Dislocations  —  Scalped  and  Abandoned  — 
A  Ghastly  Tragedy  —  The  Story  of  an  Apache  Girl  —  Yellow 
Legs, 633 


CHAPTER  XLi'I. 

A  RACE  OP  THIEVES  AND  PLUNDERERS— THEIR  DARING  AND 

SKILL—  ADVENTURES. 

The  Successful  Thief— His  Standing  in  the  Tribe  — The  Gravest  of 
Crimes  —  Horsestealing  —  Doom  of  the  Captured  Thief  —  Reckless 
Warriors  —  Disguised  as  Whites — The  False  Trail  —  Accomplished 
Sneak-Thieves  —  Comanche  Experts  —  Crawling  into  a  Bivouac  — 
Indian  Wiles  —  Old  Texans  Caught  Napping  —  ^My  Night  Adventure 
at  Fort  Lincoln  —  The  Blacksmith's  Death  —  Shot  Dead  in  his  Tracks 
—  The  Prince  cf  Trailei's  — A  Thrilling  Incident  — My  Experience 
with  a  Comanche  —  The  Fiend's  Bravado  —  A  Wild  Leap  —  A  Race 
of  Thieves  —  A  Wagon  Train  Starnpeiled  —  The  Night  Attack  —  The 
Old  Rifle  Regiment  —  A  Remarkable  Ruse  —  Horses  Frantic  with  Fear 
— •  Unearthly  Yells  —The  Mystery  Explained,         .        .        .642 


p 


■3    i 


I    i 


r^^i  >.- 


m. 


XTTX  COISTTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

HOW   INDIANS   TRAVEL -THEIR   MARVELLOUS   JOURNEYS    AND 
EXPLOITS  -  PL AINSCRAFT. 

Unerring  Instinct  — Straight  as  a  Bee  Lino  — Over  Trackless  Wastes-, 
Without  Star  or  Compass  — The  Only  Instance  of  an  Indian  being 
"  Lost "  —  Memory  of  Landmarks  —  Acute  Observers  —  Born  Ex- 
plorers—Penetrating  Unknown  Lands  — The  Old  Guide  Espinosa's 
Story  — A  Batch  of  Young  Raiders— The  Solitary  Wanderer— Ex- 
emption from  Danger  — On  the  Alert  for  Enemies  — The  Love  of  Ad- 
venture —  Meandering  Deli' wares  —  A  Notable  Tribe  — An  Indian 
Explorer  —  A  Wonderful  Story-Teller  —  A  Strange  Ambition  Gratified 
—  Across  the  Rocky  Mountains  —  Life  in  Mexico— Black  Beaver's 
Career  —  General  Marcy's  Guide  —  Female  Instinct  —  In  the 
Thick'jt  —  Breaking  Camp  — The  Advance  Guard  — The  Mound 
Builders, 550 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

TRAILING -INDIAN   EXPERTNESS    IN    READING    "SIGN"- 
WONDERFUL  CAREER  OF  PEDRO  ESPINOSA. 


•  THE 


Savage  Art  —  Expert  Trailers  —  Frontiersmen  and  Indians  —  An 
Inimitable  Faculty  —  Mexican  Competitors  —  The  Best  Trailer  I 
ever  Saw  —  Pedro  Espinosa  —  A  Wonderful  Career  —  Captured  in 
Childhood  —  Made  a  Warrior  at  Thirteen  —  Suspected  by  his  Cap- 
tors—  Leading  a  Savage  Life  —  Nineteen  Years  of  Captivity  —  A 
Fortunate  Bear  Hunt  — The  Midnigiit  Flight  —  Entrusted  with  Union 
Despatches  —  Arrested  and  Shot  by  the  Enemy  —  Thrilling  Reminis- 
cences —  Pursuit  of  Comanches  —  Six  Days  on  the  Trail  —  An  Excit- 
ing Manoeuvre  —  Indian  Tactics  —  Cunning  and  Skill  —  The  Wrong 
Scent  —  Scouting  for  Apaches  —  The  Fresh  Track  —  A  Successful 
Ruse — Every  Man  for  Himself — An  Extraordinary  Feat  —  Chey- 
ennes  at  Bay  —  Major  Munck's  Victory — The  Pawnee  Guide,      559 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

INDIAN  HUNTERS  — ADVENTURES  ON  THE  PLAINS  ■ 
SCENES  — THE  HAUNTS  OF  GAME. 


•  EXCITING 


The  Best  Hunters  in  the  World  —  Their  Stealth,  Cunning,  and  Endur- 
ance—Getting Position  — "Many  a  Slip"  —  The  Lost  Chance  —  An 
Astonished  Indian  — My  Successful  Shot  — The  Indian's  Disgust  — 


S'v,'  "»^y;'  'r.ip*T": 


■  ■"•i!i{-;r.:.»ii?/.'j!.(!  >T?>,J«'    .iJH' ■*-?'*  "^'''"^ '■'■•"A' ^*'''^'''>''i!!'''-''''-''"''^*"  ./'fi-'ftS;  »,".';■  «,-'.i»J' ' 


,vv:^^-v 


CONTENTS. 


XXXI 


>URNEYS    AND 


The  "Pot-Shot"  — Exciting  Scenes  — The  Buffalo  Snrroimd  — The 
Square  Chase  —  Hunting  the  Elk  —  Cutting  tlie  Hamstring  —  Butch- 
ered at  Leisure  —  Tl»e  "  Good  Olit  Times'^  —  Terrified  Animals  — 
Fun  in  Mid-Winter  —  Trajjs  and  Snares  —  Luckless  Anglers  —  Abhor- 
rence of  Fish  —  The  Staked  Plains  —  Origin  of  the  Buffalo  —  A  Curious 
Superstition  —  Stone  Calf  and  the  Legend  —  Lieutenant  Ogle  and  the 
Sioux  —  Preparing  for  the  Surround  —  The  Onslaught  —  Discovery  of  a 
Fresh  Herd  —  The  Indians  Dissatisfied  —  Threatened  Attack,      674 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

DOMESTIC  ANIMALS— SPEED  AND  ENDURANCE  OF  INDIAN  PONIES 
—  ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

Indian  Stockbi'eedei's  —  Chief  Ouray's  Ambition  — "Animal-Stealing" 
Tribes  —  The  Cherokee  Ponies  —  An  Inseparable  Companion  —  Ponies 
a  Necessity,  Wives  a  Luxury — Where  "Blood"  Doesn't  Count  — 
The  Express  Rider  and  his  Wonderful  Pony  —  The  Daring  Mail 
Carrier — Riding  by  Night  and  Hiding  by  Day  —  A  Marvellous 
Roadster  —  The  Indian's  Treatment  of  his  Horse — An  Animated 
Skvicton  —  Browzing  on  Cottonwood  —  The  Diet  of  Bark  —  Thrilling 
Chapter  in  Indian  IIi;;tory  —  Escape  from  the  Agency  —  Marching 
like  Victors  —  Encounters  with  Troops  —  An  Ambuscade  —  Turning 
the  Tables  on  the  Redmcn  —  Col.  Lewis  Shot  —  Flight  of  the  Indians 
—  Hoi  rors  of  the  Kansas  Raid  —  Munck's  Cavalry  Pursuit  —  Speed 
and  Endurance  —  Race  and  Trick  Animals  —  The  War  Pony,     584 


CHAPTER  XLVH. 


-EXCITING 


ON  THE    FRONTIEIl  — TRAPPERS    AND    SQUAW   MEN  — TRADING 
POSTS  AND  INDIAN  AGENTS. 

On  the  Frontier  —  The  Border  Line  —  The  Early  Trappers  —  Playing 
the  V/ild  Rover  —  Romantic  Adventures  —  Adoption  by  the  Tribe  — 
The  Old  Trading  Posts  — A  Winter's  Work  for  Whiskey  — The 
Indian  Trader  —  Perambulating  Groggeries  —  Indi.an  Wives  and 
Half-breed  Children  —  Growing  Rich  —  Influence  with  Washington 
M.agnates  —  Die  Squaw  Men  —  Adventurers  and  Outcasts  —  The  Asy- 
lum of  Thieves  and  Murderers  —  Pliant  Tools  of  Corrupt  Agents 

—  Treachery  and  Debauchery  —  Leading  a  Band  of  Sioux  Hor 
thieves  —  Inciting  the  Indians  to  Deeds  of  Atrocity  —  A  Thousand 
of  such  "  Missionaries  "  —  Indian  Marriages  —  Social  Degi'adation  — 
The  Black  Hills  War  —  A  Costly  Sacrifice  —  Dishonest  Interpreters 

—  How  the   Indians  are  Misled  —  Escape  from  a  Disastrous  Con- 
test,   596 


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wm 


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'.',"'■•;■,  T '■■■*•?" 


V-. 


u 


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't-; 


m 


m 


Xxxii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

FRONTIERSMEN -TEXAS  COW-BOYS    AND    BORDER    DESPERADOES 
-A  STRANGE  AND  THRILLING  STORY. 

Frontiersmen  — Who  They  Are  —  The  Miners  and  Gold  Hunters  —  Un- 
savory Buffalo  Hunters  —  Texas  Cow-Boys  — A  Life  of  Privation, 
Hardship  and  Danger  — A  Plains  •' Norther"  — The  Most  Recliless 
of  all  Desperadoes  —  Utter  Disregard  of  Life  —  Spoiling  for  a  Fight 
—  The  Terror  of  the  Frontier  —  Cattle  Thieves  —  A  Strange  and 
Thrilling  Stoiy- History  of  a  Bloodthirsty  Combat- A  Remarkable 
Incident  of  Border  Life  —  A  Noted  Desperado  —  His  Gorgeous  Ap- 
pearance —  Stealing  a  Herd  of  Cattle  —  Tracking  the  Thieves — Their 
Discovery— Watcliing  for  a  Favorable  Opiwrtunity  —  Killing  his 
Victims  One  by  One  —  A  Merciless  Foe  —  Death  of  the  Sixth 
Ruffian  — He  Proves  to  be  the  Leader  of  the  Band — A  Question 
ofTime 607 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

BORDER   RUFFIANS -A   LIFE   OF   PRIVATION   AND   DANGER - 
THRILLING  PERSONAL  EXPERIENCES. 

Fugitives  from  Justice  —  Escaped  Criminals  —  Beyond  the  Settlement^ 
—  Commencing  Life  Anew  —  An  Exploring  Expedition  in  Northern 
Texas  — Thrilling  Incident  in  My  Early  Military  Life  —  My  Camp 
near  the  Squatter's  Cabin  —  Alone  with  a  Frontier  Ruffian  —  A  Dan- 
gerous, Companion —  He  Threatens  my  Life  —  Strange  Hospitality  — 
A  Reckless  Frontiersman  —  Tiie  Monomania  of  Assassination  —  A 
Wonderful  Two-handed  Shot  —  Desperate  Combat  of  Two  Border 
Ruffians  —  Dying  Happy  —  Slade,  the  Notorious  Desperado —  An  Ar- 
rant Coward  —  The  Influence  of  Drink  —  Strange  Freak  of  a  Man  of 
Wealth  —  A  Tender  Heart  Beneath  a  Rough  Exterior  —  Burying 
Himself  in  the  Wilderness  —  A  Lawless  Life,  .        .        .        .    619 


CHAPTER  L. 

FRONTIER  .SCOUTS    AND  GUIDES  —  HEROIC    ACHIEVEMENT 
AMOS  CILAPMAN- FACING  DEATH. 


OF 


Plainscraft—  Importance  of  Guides  —  The  Old  Trappers  —  Lessons  from 
the  Indians— How  an  Experienced  Guide  was  Lost  —  Old  Bridger  — 
Kit  Carson — The  Requisites  of  a  Good  Scout  —  Boots  Hill  —  California 
Joe— Wild  Bill  — Buffalo  Bill  — Amos  Chapman  — His  Wonderful 


;^v^!  -9    ■■_  - 


CONTENTS. 


XXXIH 


DESPERADOES 

r. 

Hunters  —  Un- 
fe  of  Priviition, 
Mos:  Reckless 
ing  for  a  Fight 
Strange  and 
A  Remarkable 
Gorgeous  Ap- 
Thieves— Their 
y  — Killing  his 
of  the    Sixth 
(1 — A  Question 
.    607 


D  DANGER - 

the  Settlement'^ 
on  in  Northern 
fe  — My  Camp 
ifRan  —  A  Dan- 
e  Hospitality  — 
Bassination  —  A 
'f  Two  Border 
irado  —  An  Ar- 
ik  of  a  Man  of 
rior — Burying 
.     619 


EMENT    OF 


-  Lessons  from 
OldBridger  — 
n  —  California 
lis  Wonderful 


Achievement  —  What  Gen.  Miles  Said  of  Him  —  Heroic  Conduct  of 
Chapman  —  Surrounded  by  Indians  —  A  Thrilling  Deed  —  "Amos! 
Amos!  Wo  have  got  you  now "  —  UcmaiKablo  Pluck  —  Facing  l^eath 
to  Rescue  a  Wounded  Comrade  —  Major  Forsyth's  Fight  —  The  Alarm, 
"Indians!"  —  Gallant  Defence  —  The  Charge  of  Roman  Nose  and 
His  Band — Terrific  Volley  from  the  Whites  —  Secret  Departure  of 
the  Scouts  for  Help  —  Threatend  Starvation  —  Living  on  Decaying 
Mulo  Flesh  —  Succor  at  Last, 624 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE  PRESENT  AND   FUTURE  OF  THE    INDIANS - 
WHAT  SHOULD  BE  DONE. 


-JMY   IDEA  OF 


"Wards  of  the  Nation" — Charity  Begins  at  Home  —  Official  Tyranny 
—  Hidden  Crimes  Against  the  Indians  —  Their  Need  of  Help  and 
Sympathy  —  Their  Future  —  Contrasts  Between  Their  Condition  a 
Few  Years  Ago  and  Now  —  On  the  Verge  of  Stiii-vation  —  Why  They 
Do  Not  Progress — The  Indian  Ring  —  A  Powerful  Organization  — 
How  the  Indian  is  Robbed,  Swindled  and  Imposed  Upon — The  Soui-ce 
of  all  Indian  Ills  — Neglect  by  the  Government — Criminal  Responsi- 
bility—My Idea  of  What  Should  Be  Done  — The  Tide  of  Immigra- 
tion—  Only  a  Question  of  Time, 639 

8 


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ii 


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^^^-4#0i 


INTRODUCTION, 


BY 


GENERAL   WILLIAM   T.   SHERMAN. 


Coi-.  RicriAun  I.  DonoE. 

ti[inl  U.  S.  lufantnj,  A  ule  de  Camp,  &c. 

Dear  Coloxel,  —  I  have  now  completed  the  Jirst 
rending  of  the  proof-sheets  of  your  forthcoming  book 
on  "  Our  Wikl  Indians,"  and  congratuhitc  you  upon 
having  accomplished  a  work  of  such  general  interest 
so  well  and  so  handsomely. 

The  Indian  of  America  has  been  for  centuries  the 
subject  of  study  and  of  romance ;  alternately  treated 
as  an  unmitigated  savage,  or  as  the  dashing,  bold 
hero  fighting  for  his  native  land  and  his  inherited 
privileges.  Yours  is  the  first  attempt  of  which  I  have 
knowledge,  to  treat  him  as  he  exists  in  fact,  —  the 
creature  of  ancient  habits,  of  manners  and  customs 
imposed  on  him  by  former  ages,  modified  by  recent 
and  modern  changes,  —  and  I  am  sure  that  your  work 
will  be  of  inestimable  value  to  the  army,  and  to  mem- 
bers of  Congress,  who  alone  can  legislate  so  as  to  save 
what  is  valuable  in  his  character,  and  provide  against 
the  everlasting  conflict  necessarily  incident  to  his 
clinging  to  old  prejudices  and  habits  in  the  midst  of 
a  race  so  dissimilar  as  ours. 

You  have  had  the  experience  of  a  third  of  a  century 

xxxy 


-s^v- 


■  ■^j'^cr^ij 


^^' 


L^f5^^ 


n 


i 


■I-'*'!' 


XXXVl 


GE5f.  Sherman's  introduction-. 


in  absolute  contact  with  the  various  tribes  of  the 
Indians  from  the  British  line  to  Texas,  :N'cw  Mexico 
and  Arizona,  living-  Avith  them,  hunting  with  them,  in 
peace  ;  id  in  war;  and  therefore  your  book  is  the 
record  of  your  own  personal  observations,  with  dates, 
facts  and  figures,  which  constitute  the  very  best  testi- 
mony possible  on  the  s  ibject-matter  treated  of  I 
and  nearly  every  army  officer,  with  less  personal 
experience,  can  verify  much  that  you  describe,  and  in 
reading  your  chapters  I  have  been  struck  by  the 
ekill  with  which  you  have  grouped  the  various 
branches  of  the  subject  discussed,  making  plain 
and  logical  deductions  from  the  scattered  obser- 
vations of  many  army  officers,  who  have  had  simi- 
lar experience;  I  notice  with  great  satisfaction  that 
unlike  most  authors  who  have  preceded  you,  you 
draAV  the  broad  distinction  between  the  tribes  like  the 
Chippewas  of  the  Lakes;  the  Seminoles  of  Florida; 
the  Kiowas,  Comanches,  etc.,  of  Texas;  tlie  Chey- 
ennes,  Arapahoes  and  Sioux  of  the  Plains;  the  Utes 
and  Apaches  of  the  Mountain?;  the  Xavajoes  and 
Pueblos  of  N^ew  Mexico;  the  Diggirs  and  the  fish- 
eating  tribes  of  the  Pacific  Coast.  There  is  as  wide  a 
difference  in  these  types  of  the  same  I'ace  as  between 
the  Swedes,  French,  Spanish,  and  Italian  peoples.  The 
character  of  each  tribe  or  nation  has  been  formed  by 
long  antecedent  events,  by  the  nature  of  the  country 
in  which  they  have  resided,  and  the  means  necessary 
to  obtain  a  livelihood. 

I  do  not  agree  with  you  and  the  world  generally 
in  accusing  our  ancestors  and  the  General  CJovern- 
ment  with  a  deliberate  purpose  to  be  luijust  to,  and  to 
defraud  these  people.  I  think  a  perusal  of  the  statutes 
and  of  the  many  treaties  exhibit  a  purpose  to  deal 


''i\^.ni'^p.%''>'y':iS'^.-nyfn»i''y-.^f^^^ 


GEN.    SIIEKMAISr's   INTRODUCTION.         XXXVil 


with  them  liberally;  but  so  rapid  has  been  our  develop- 
ment that  violence  was  sure  to  happen.  Our  wisest 
and  best  statesmen  did  not  and  could  not  foresee  the 
future.  Mr.  Van  Burcn,  in  1838,  in  urging  the 
Cherokees,  Creeks  and  Choctaws  to  exchange  their 
possessions  in  Georgia,  Alabama,  and  Mississippi  for 
lands  west  of  Arkansas,  announced,  as  he  believed 
truthfully,  that  there  they  could  never  again  be  dis- 
turbed by  white  neighbors,  because  the  land  was  not 
suitable  for  white  men,  but  admirably  adapted  to 
Indiitn  life.  So  in  18G8,  the  Indian  Peace  Com- 
mission, composed  of  four  most  humane  and  honorable 
citizens,  and  three  army  officers  (Generals  Ilarney, 
Terry,  and  Sherman),  had  no  conception  that  in  ten 
years  the  region  north  of  Laramie  and  east  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains  could  become  habitable  to  the 
white  race.  Nor  do  I  think  it  just  to  accuse 
all  Indian  agents  of  being  incompetent,  if  not  dis- 
honest. I  have  personally  met  a  great  number  of 
these,  who  are  generally  kind,  honest,  and  well-mean- 
ing people,  badly  f)aid,  and  deprived  of  all  the  comforts 
which  civilized  men  desire  to  enjoy.  Some  motive 
higher  than  a  desire  to  plunder  must  actuate  men  who 
risk  so  much,  and  endure  such  hardships  and  priva- 
tions. If  our  Indian  policy  has  failed,  we  should  seek 
for  the  cause  elsewhere,  in  the  nature  of  things,  rather 
than  in  a  systematic  desire  to  do  wrong. 

In  the  treatment  by  the  National  Government  of 
the  indinn,  the  military  and  civil  officers  of  Govern- 
ment have  generally  been  diametrically  opposed,  the 
former  believing  the  Indians  to  be  as  children,  needing 
counsel,  advice,  and  example,  coupled  with  a  force 
which  commands  respect  and  obedience  from  a  sense 
of  fear,  the  latter  trusting  mostly  to  moral  suasion  and 


'I 


-T"-.  "'T^'.  "*'^- 


^ 


I' 


:^ 


xxxviii      GEN.  Sherman's  inteoduction. 

religious  instruction.  The  absolute  proof  produced 
by  you  that  the  Indian  has  a  strong  religious  bias  but 
is  absolutely  devoid  of  a  moral  sense  as  connected 
with  religion,  more  than  ever  convinces  me  that  the 
military  authorities  of  the  United  States  are  better 
qualified  to  guide  the  steps  of  the  Indian  towards 
that  conclusion  which  we  all  desire,  self-support  and 
peaceful  relations  with  his  neighbors,  than  the  civilian 
asrents,  most  of  whom  are  members  of  some  one  of 
our  Christian  churches.  Congress,  however,  alone 
•has  jurisdiction  of  the  whole  matter,  and  I  am  sure 
your  volume  will  be  received  by  its  members  with 
great  satisfaction,  as  it  will  enable  them  better  to 
understand  a  subject  which  has  always  been  involved 
in  honest  doubt. 

As  you  are  perfectly  aware  the  treaty  system  began 
at  an  early  period  of  our  history  when  the  white  settlers 
and  Indian  tribes  were  more  nearly  equal  than  now,  and 
my  recollection  is  that  this  system  was  first  discounte- 
nanced on  motion  of  General  A.  H.Terry,  by  the  Indian 
Peace  Commission  of  18G8-9.  Still,  as  long  as  distinct 
tribes  like  the  Sioux,  Cheyennes,  Kiowas,  Arrapahoes, 
Utes  and  Apaches  are  assigned  to  specific  reserva- 
tions, there  must  always  exist  something  like  a  treaty 
or  bargain,  so  that  both  Indians  and  whites  may 
understand  their  true  relations. 

My  recollection  also  is  that  the  same  Peace  Com- 
mission recommended  to  Congress  to  provide  for 
each  group  of  Indian  reservations  something  like  a 
territorial  government,  with  a  code  of  laws  applicable 
to  each  member  of  the  tribe;  with  a  governor,  coui'ts, 
and  executive  officers  to  enforce  the  law  as  against 
individual  criminals,  instead  of  as  now,  resorting  to 
war  to  punish  a  whole  tribe  for  the  individual  acts  of 


Ilk 


gif-qi^i 


'•'•y^f^*T;Fy;T>'^H'S^;<»*Vf''3";'VJJJ;'''^."*'  T:' 


•oof  produced 
gioiis  bias  but 
as  couueeted 
me  that  the 
es  are  better 
dian  towai-ds 
-supjDort  and 
in  tlie  civilian 
some  one  of 
►wcver,  alone 
tl  I  am  sure 
embers  with 
'm  better  to 
een  involved 

ystem  began 
vhite  settlers 
iian  now,  and 
st  diseounte- 
^y  the  Indian 
ig  as  distinct 
Arrapahoes, 
ific  reserva- 
like  a  treaty 
whites  may 

Vace  Com- 
5rovide  for 
'ling-  like  a 
>  applicable 
^ov,  courts, 
as  against 
'sorting  to 
ual  acts  of 


GEN.    SHERMAN'S  rNTRODUCTION. 


XXXIX 


a  few.  The  time  is  now  opportune  to  perfect  that 
system,  and  your  volume  will  greatly  aid  Congress 
in  the  accomplishment  of  that  end. 

The  subject-matter  of  your  volume  has  dramatic 
interest  to  a  large  class  of  the  American  people,  is 
fair  and  just  in  its  reasoning,  and  liberal  in  its  tone; 
and  I  therefore  take  great  pleasure  in  recommend- 
ing it  to  the  military  student  and  to  the  general 
reading  public,  as  by  far  the  best  description  extant 
of  the  habits,  manners,  customs,  usages,  ceremonies, 
etc.,  of  the  American  Indian  as  he  now  is. 

You  are  hereby  authorized  to  use  my  name  as 
authority  for  its  publication  and  circulation;  and  I 
invite  all  persons  interested  in  the  subject  of  the 
ISTorth  American  Indian  to  read  this  book  carefully, 
to  the  end  that  public  opinion  may  aid  the  national 
authorities  to  deal  jnstly  and  liberally  with  the  rem- 
nants of  that  race  which  preceded  us  on  this  continent. 


Washington,  D.  C,  January  1,  1882. 


vt^'i.-'. f  ■?; ^^^  ■;■'>■■ 


'-'Vi>-" 


J,  •<« 


l-'-t 


:y'«. 


tr 


"•\M 


■;V'-;/- 


v7v4V;i'frv/'rT',^'-, 


•.';*?ft7*^-f/^  .'^■•rtf.-',' 


OUH  WILD  INDIANS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


MY  EAELT  LIFE  —  FIRST  EXPERIENCES  WITH  IN- 
DIANS —  ADVENTURES   AMONG   THE    COMANCHES. 

My  Early  Home  —  First  Sight  of  Wan-iors  —  A  Thrill  of  Horror  Ro* 
called  —  Siulden  Transform  lation  of  My  Views  —  A  Beardless  Lieu* 
tenant  —  The  Texan  Frontier  —  Nights  with  the  Comanches  —  Their 
Cunning  and  Treachery  —  The  Sleepless  Foe  —  A  Fatal  Stumble  — 
On  a  Cavalry  Scout  —  Adventurous  Pursuit  —  Surprising  an  Indian 
Camp  —  Invited  to  be  the  Guest  of  an  Indian  Chief — Warned  of 
Danger  —  Outbreak  of  Hostilities  —  Young  Warriors  with  "  Bad 
Hearts  "  —  The  Bandera  Pass  —  An  Exciting  Adventure  —  Separated 
from  My  Command  —  Making  tlie  Best  of  It  — Ruined  Ammuni- 
tion—  On  the  Edge  of  Peril  —  Reconnoitring  th3  Indian  Camp  — 
My  Flight  and  Pursuit  — The  Race  for  Life  —  My  Escape  —  Rejoin- 
ing My  Command  — Thirty  Years  of  Indian  Warfare. 


AYAS  born  in  western  North  Carolina. 
My  earliest  recollections  arc  tinged 
with  stories  of  Indian  atrocities;  for 
the  Cherokees  yet  occupied  "the  land 
of  their  Fathers,"  and  were  only  a  short 
distance  from  us.  It  is  true  the  Chero- 
kees had  committed  no  outrages,  but 
their  white  neighbors,  being  in  constant 
dread  of  what  three  or  four  thousand 
warriors  might  do,  were  vociferous  in  demands  for 
their  removal  beyond  the  limits  o^  the  State. 

This   "hue  and   cry"  was  led  by  some   men  of 
intelligence  and  position  (who  may  have  had  solid 

29 


^■■■■iM 


'''/■■■;'*.'*■,' '■^r/C^.'V'^'"^.*'^'^.^^*    '■  .'^'■'^'■■■'.V *'■'■'-''.'  "■- Jv-"^';'"-^Y-'*?''-'-^:'^ ?■'■*■■  f:-'-';r-' ■'■'.'>*>  ■■■■«' 7. v;w-\.'v-  -r-^ 


FIRST  SIGHT  OF  INDIANS. 

pecuniary  reasons  for  wishing  to  get  rid  of  the 
Indians),  and  these  so  worked  upon  the  fears  of  the 
masses  of  uneducated  whites,  that  there  was  constant 
danger  of  rupture  of  peaceable  relations. 

The  negroes  were  especially  terror-stricken,  and, 
forgetting  for  the  time,  their  usual  stories  of  witches 
and  ghosts,  often  caused  my  "  hairs  to  stand  on  end  " 
with  their  thrilling  narratives  of  the  cunning,  fero- 
city, and  immunity  from  danger,  of  Indians.  Accord- 
ing to  them  an  Indian  could  make  himself  invisible 
as  air,  and  was  much  harder  to  kill  than  even  a 
witch. 

Several  times  in  each  year,  small  parties  of  Indians 
would  suddenly  make  t>eir  appearance  in  the  little 
village  in  which  my  parents  resided;  and  I  can  yet 
feel  the  thrill  of  horror  and  dismay  which  quivered 
through  my  frame  when,  a  small  delicate  lad  of  six 
years,  I  one  day  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  a  band 
of  tLirty  or  forty  stalwart,  painted,  feather-crowned 
warriors,  bows  in  hand,  and  some  in  the  very  act  of 
discharging  arrows  which,  my  negro  nurse  had  often- 
times assured  me,  were  a  thousand  times  more 
dangerous  than  bullets.  Instinctively  seizing  the 
hand  of  a  venerable  friend  of  my  father,  who  was  in 
the  crowd  about  the  Indians,  I  gazed  with  wonder 
and  dread;  which  was  hardly  dispelled  when  I  com- 
prehended that  the  Indians  were  shooting  at  six- 
pences held  in  cleft  sticks,  stuck  in  the  ground  at 
thirty  or  forty  yards  distance. 

In  spite  of  the  assurances  and  protective  kindness 
of  my  old  friend,  it  was  some  time  before  I  could 
regain  my  equanimity,  and  I  had  hardly  begun  to  be 
interested  in,  and  enjoy  the  sport,  when  at  a  loud  call 
from  one  of  the  number,  the  whole  party  started  with 


fVv" 


,;,^jv,».=.4,  ^.rjy,.^jf,-yr-,f^  ,;>';.,»  ■ 


■::rHy\<" 


COMANCHE    THIEVES. 


31 


rapid  strides  towards  my  father's  house,  which  was 
near  by.  Again  I  was  tormented  with  doubt,  suspi- 
cion and  fear,  and  I  could  scarcely  be  made  to  com- 
prehend that  the  Indians  had  gone  to  our  house  to 
ask  my  mother  to  play  for  them  on  the  only  piano 
that  our  small  village  then  boasted.  Here,  their 
grave  and  quiet  demeanor,  their  appreciative  notice 
of  myself  and  sisters,  and  their  unalloyed  delight  at 
the  music,  allayed  all  my  fears,  and  I  began  to  believe 
the  Indians  a  greatly  slandered  race. 

Next  day  they  were  gone,  and  the  favorable  im- 
pression made  was  soon  almost  entirely  effaced  by 
continual  repetition  of  stories  of  their  horrible  cru- 
elties. 

Each  succeeding  visit  of  Indians  left  me  with  more 
favorable  impressions  of  them,  but  each  such  visit 
seemed  more  and  more  to  exasperate  the  white  men. 
Before  I  was  ten  years  of  age,  I  had  heard  all  the 
changes  rung  on  the  terrible  possibilities  of  Indian 
character,  and  though  my  personal  experience  made 
me  something  of  a  doubter,  I  could  not  gainsay  the 
evidence  of  the  people  about  me,  backed  as  it  was 
by  the  history  of  the  colonies,  of  which,  about  this 
time,  I  began  the  study. 

My  next  experience  dissipated  all  my  doubts. 

A  beardless  second  lieutenant  of  the  army,  I  was 
stationed  in  Texas  at  a  little  two-company  frontier 
post,  exposed  to  the  wiles  and  machinations  of  the 
most  cunning,  the  most  mischievously  artful,  of  all 
the  United  States  Indians,  the  Comanches.  Wliile 
not  so  coldly  bloodthirsty  as  some  other  tribes,  —  prid- 
ing themselves  upon  their  silent  stealth  and  cunning, 
and  ranking  the  expert  horse-thief  above  the  dashing 
warrior,  —  the  Comanches    are   at   night    the   most 


^  % 


Ul 


L^ 


'?^ 


.  «r#;y  7j>.' 


32  ITNCOMFORTABLE   HUNTING. 

dangerous  of  call  Indians.  Crawling  into  camp  and 
bivouac,  he  will,  in  his  efforts  at  theft,  harmlessly  pass 
close  by  sleeping  men,  whom  one  blow  of  his  knife 
miffht  silence  forever.  But  woe  betide  the  unfoi-tunate 
who  discovers  him,  or  attempts  to  interfere  with  his 
favorite  pastime.  His  weapons  are  ever  ready.  A 
shot,  or  quick  j^lunge  of  his  knife,  and,  in  the  confusion 
and  darkness,  he  vanishes  like  a  ghost,  leaving  death 
and  terror \behind  him. 

For  months  after  the  establishment  of  this  little 
post,  there  was  scarce  a  night  when  an  attempt  was 
not  made  on  our  picket  line.  The  sentinels  soon 
learned  their  lesson,  and  hiding  themselves,  watched 
the  ground  and  fu'cd  at  every  unusual  object.  On 
each  such  occasion  the  commanding  officer  required 
the  officer  of  the  day  to  turn  out  the  whole  guard, 
deploy  it  as  skirmishers,  and  scour  the  chapparal 
around  and  in  the  vicinity  of  the  corral.  How  often, 
when  engaged  in  such  duty,  thrusting  my  sword  into 
every  clump  and  cover,  have  I  inwardly  thanked  the 
Indian  for  his  disposition  to  put  as  great  a  distance 
as  possible  between  himself  and  danger.  Though  I 
hunted  faithfully  many  nights,  I  never  found  an 
Indian.  If  I  had,  these  papers  would  probably  never 
have  been  written. 

Exasperated  by  the  constant  failure  of  their  efforts 
to  steal,  and  possibly  emboldened  by  the  lack  of 
casualties,  resulting  from  the  fire  of  our  poorly  armed 
and  badly  drilled  soldiers,  the  Indians  became  more 
enterprising,  no  part  of  the  post  being  safe  at  night. 
Finally,  the  blacksmith, — an  excellent  man, — hap- 
pening to  stumble  one  night  over  a  crawling  Indian, 
was  shot  dead  within  a  few  feet  of  his  tent. 

Up  to  this  time,  our  annoyance  had  come  from 


..^.^■.--.. 


--:..».'■  f.'*"^-; 


MY   FIRST  FIGHT. 


33 


little  marauding  parties  of  from  two  to  six  Indians  on 
foot,  who,  separating  on  occasions  of  alarm,  left  no 
trail  which  conld  be  followed  with  any  hope  of  over- 
taking them.  Xow,  however,  they  began  to  come  in 
larger  parties,  and  on  horseback.  Onr  cavalry  was 
therefore  ordered  out,  and  at  least  twenty  men  kept 
continually  on  the  move;  watching  passes  through 
the  mountains,  following  trails,  and  making  the 
Indians  understand  that  they  could  not  visit  our 
section  of  country  without  danger. 

This  led  to  my  third  scene  of  Indian  experience. 
A  party  of  Comanches  passed  near  the  town  of 
Castroville,  Texas,  committing  various  thefts  and 
depredations,  finally  murdering  a  whole  family  of 
Germans.  I  was  ordered  with  twenty-five  soldiers  to 
pursue  and  ])unish  them.  For  more  than  four  weeks 
I  followed  the  devious  windings  of  the  trail,  and 
finally  overtook  and  surprised  them  in  their  camp, 
killing  some,  dispersing  the  others,  and  capturing  all 
their  horses,  saddles  and  equipments. 

This  was  so  severe  a  blow  that  the  Comanches 
almost  entirely  ceased  to  frequent  that  portion  of 
country,  and  in  a  very  few  years  after,  that  military 
post  was  abandoned,  as  no  longer  necessary. 

Before  this  occurred,  however,  I  had  been  trans- 
ferred with  my  company  to  another  post,  near  which 
were  located  several  tribes  and  bands  of  Indians, 
all  apparently  peacefully  disposed,  and  here  I  gained 
another  exjierience  of  Indian  life. 

I  had  been  at  the  post  but  a  few  weeks  when  it 
was  visited  by  a  party  of  Lipans,  who  were  excep- 
tionally demonstrative  in  theii*  evidences  of  friendly 
feeling.  They  encamped  near  the  post  for  some 
days. 


■■■■imiMpPWP"") 


'.•'■:  il.i;,".';y'v,i 


*r-,t;H*ir\i'.'fT^^,y,  ■    tf    ■"  ^ '-,.-*, ''-;*  ".'*V^T*  r**^*^  f ""' 


34 


CAMPED  WITH  INDIANS. 


One  (lay  I  was  out  with  dog  and  gun  after  quail, 
and  finding  a  large  covey  near  the  Lipan  camp,  had 
got  it  nicely  scattered  in  good  cover  and  was 
thoroughly  enjoying  the  sport,  when  I  found  that  I 
had  a  following  of  at  least  a  dozen  Indians.  Having 
no  knowledge  of  the  shot-gun,  their  hunting  was 
confined  to  large  game,  and  they  were  filled  with 
astonishment,  not  only  at  my  hitting  so  small  lui 
ohject,  but  that  I  killed  it  flying.  At  each  successful 
shot,  they  gave  vent  to  their  admiration  in  loud 
applause.  When  my  dog  could  no  longer  find  any 
birds,  I  stopped  hunting,  and  with  some  vanity  (for  I 
had  shot  unusually  well)  showed  the  Indians  my  gun 
and  equipments.  They  were  so  delighted,  especially 
with  the  minute  No.  9  shot  (which  they  had  never 
before  seen),  that  the  chief  invited  me  to  visit  his  main 
camp  on  the  head  waters  of  the  Perdinales,  promising 
me  not  only  an  abundance  of  those ''  little  birds"  (quail, 
for  which  they  had  no  special  name)  but  also  of 
Guacalotes  (turkeys).  The  offer  was  too  tempting 
to  be  refused.  Returning  to  the  post,  I  stated  the 
case  to  the  commanding  officer,  and  obtained  his 
pei-mission  to  be  absent. 

Two  days  after,  mounted  on  a  good  horse,  accom- 
panied by  one  soldier,  who  led  a  pack-mule,  laden 
with  our  tents  and  supplies,  I  started  with  the  In- 
dians for  their  main  camp.  Arriving  there,  I  pitched 
my  tent  in  a  pretty  clump  of  trees  near  the  village, 
and  for  nearly  a  week  had  a  most  delightful  time, 
bagging  great  quantities  of  small  game.  The  In- 
dians, as  a  rule,  kept  aloof  from  me,  which  I  attrib- 
uted to  the  diflicultios  of  intercourse;  our  only 
means  of  communication  being  a  mere  smattering  of 
very  bad  Spanish  on  both  sides.     One  day  the  chief 


ssssammmm 


DECOY   DUCKS. 


35 


came  to  mo  and  told  me  I  had  better  go  home,  as 
some  of  his  young  men  had  "  bad  hearts  "  towards 
white  men.  Thanking  him  for  his  hospitality  and 
warning,  I  was  soon  packed,  and  returned  without 
molestation  to  my  post. 

"Within  two  weeks  after  my  return,  information 
was  brought  that  these  very  Indians  had  broken  out, 
and  were  murdering  settlers,  right  and  left.  It  after- 
wards transpired  that  the  outbreak  had  been  deter- 
mined upon  some  time  before;  that  the  visit  of  the 
chief  to  the  post  was  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining 
information  as  to  the  numbers  and  character  of 
troops  that  could  be  put  into  the  field;  and  that  my 
invitation  to  visit  his  camp  was  to  ward  off  any  sus- 
picion of  their  intent  until  all  their  arrangements 
had  been  completed. 

"Not  very  long  after  this  I  had  yet  another  experi- 
ence, differing  from  all  the  others.  I  was  returning 
with  my  conmiand  from  a  long  scout;  our  route  led 
through  the  Guadalope  mountains,  by  the  Bandera 
pass.  These  mountains  were  at  thai:  time  infested 
by  hostile  Indians,  who,  secure  in  their  fastnesses, 
watched  the  plains  below,  pouncing  upon  settle- 
ments or  unwary  travellers,  and  hurrying  with  their 
l^lunder  through  the  Bandera  pass  to  their  secure 
retreats. 

Coming  upon  a  pretty  stream,  we  startled  a  flock 
of  ducks,  which,  flying  a  short  distance,  settled  upon 
the  limf)id  water.  Hurrying  off  alone,  I  followed 
eagerly;  for  our  larder  had  run  to  its  very  dregs. 
For  an  hour  or  more,  I  was  tantalized  with  "the 
delusions  of  hope,"  the  provoking  birds  flying  but  a 
little  way,  but  always  flying  before  I  could  get  within 
shot.    At  last  they  went  far  away,  and  I  started  to 


^<?- 


1-  -  »'T    t  rt't'  f"-  '  T- 


36 


DISARMED. 


rejoin  my  command;  but,  though  I  took  the  propc 
direction,  and  watclicd  most  carefully  for  the  trail 
night  overtook  me  in  the  wilderness. 

To  go  twenty-four  hours  without  food,  and  b( 
thrown  entirely  on  his  own  resources  for  shelter,  wa.^ 
not,  in  those  days,  so  uncommon  as  to  be  regai'de( 
as  a  special  hardship  by  any  soldier  or  sportsman 
So,  finding  a  deep  ravine,  with  plenty  of  water, 
wood,  and  grass,  I  dismounted,  nnsaddled,  picketed 
my  mule, and  went  into  camp.  My  tent  was  modelled 
after  the  Indian  teepe;  straight  sticks,  stuck  in  the 
ground  in  a  circle,  and  crossing  each  other  four  feet 
above,  formed  the  frame.  Over  these  was  fastened, 
my  wide  india-rubber  poncho,  and  over  the  slit  in 
the  top  was  secured  my  hat.  My  bed  was  the  saddle- 
blanket,  my  pillow  the  saddle.  I  had  hardly  com- 
pleted my  arrangements,  when  a  rain-storm,  such 
only  as  Texas  can  get  up,  burst  upon  me.  In  spite 
of  it  I  slept  comfortably  and  dry  from  above,  but  the 
rain  soaked  in  underneath,  and  I  was  thoroughly 
annoyed  and  not  a  little  alarmed  to  find,  next  morn- 
ing, that  my  gun,  in  spite  of  all  precautions,  was  so 
wet,  that  I  could  not  discharge  it.  I  had  a  revolver, 
but  having  no  cartridges  to  reload,  did  not  attempt 
to  fire  it  off.  From  appearance,  I  judged  it  to  be  in 
the  same  condition  as  the  gun.  I  was  practically 
disarmed,  in  a  most  dangerous  country. 

Deciding  not  to  waste  time  nor  incur  dangerous 
chances  in  looking  for  my  command,  I  determined  to 
make  the  best  possible  speed  for  my  station,  then  not 
less  than  seventy-five  miles  off.  I  was  mounted  on 
a  powerful  mule,  a  most  excellent  riding  and  hunting 
animal,  and  I  did  not  doubt  her  ability  to  make  the 
distance  in  a  day;  but  in  order  to  do  so,  I  must  go 


— «■ 


.'6'«-k', .  ^'sa^-iii^ji 


'  r'-i ' 


;  ."T,"^ 


A   TELL-TALE   BRAY. 


37 


I  took  the  pi'oper 

fully  for  the  trail, 

;s. 

out   food,  and   be 

CH  for  shelter,  was 

as  to  be  ivgai-ded 

lier  or  spoi*tsinan. 

plenty  of  water, 
nsaddled,  i)ieketed 
tent  was  modelled 
ieks,  Ktuek  in  the 
eh  other  four  feet 
lese  was  fastened 
I  over  the  slit  in 
;d  was  the  saddle- 
had  liai'dly  eom- 

rain-storm,  sueh 
on  me.  In  spite 
3m  above,  but  the 

was  thoroughly 

find,  next  morn- 
seautions,  was  so 
I  had  a  revolver, 
,  did  not  attempt 
Lidged  it  to  be  in 
[  was  practically 
try. 

incur  dangerous 
,  I  determined  to 
station,  then  not 
^vas  mounted  on 
iing  and  hunting 
lity  to  make  the 
o  so,  I  must  go 


•I 


through  the  Bandera  pass,  at  that  time  the  most 
dangerous  locality  in  Texas.  Needs  must,  and  I 
started  at  daylight  for  the  pass. 

Soon  after  sunrise,  I  reached  the  Guadalope  River; 
and  was  travelling  rapidly,  but  comfortably,  along 
the  broad  Indian  trail  which  led  up  that  stream.  I 
was  on  a  small  open  prairie,  surrounded  by  thickets, 
when  my  attention  was  attracted  by  a  thin,  scarcely- 
defined  column  of  smoke  rising  apparently  froai  the 
very  bed  of  the  river.  Naturally  thinking  of  Indians, 
I  turned  my  mule,  darted  at  once  into  the  thicket, 
and,  keeping  out  of  sight,  skirted  around  until  I  got 
above  the  smoke. 

My  first  impulse  was  now  to  put  as  much  distance 
between  myself  and  it,  and  in  as  short  a  time  as 
possible ;  but  the  idea  suddenly  occurred  to  me  that 
it  might  be  the  camp  of  my  command,  and  that  I 
never  could  overcome  or  outlive  the  ridicule  that 
would  attach  to  me,  were  it  known  that  I  had  run 
away  from  my  own  comrades.  Acting  on  this,  I 
turned  my  mule  and  cautiously  made  my  way  back 
towards  the  smoke.  The  thicket  was  very  dense; 
pushing  slowly  and  carefully  through  it,  I  suddenly 
emerged  to  find  myself  in  a  herd  of  about  twenty 
horses  and  mules,  which  were  picketed  in  a  small 
open  space,  scarcely  thirty  yards  wide,  and  just  on 
the  bluff  back  of  the  river. 

To  make  matters  worse,  my  mule  no  sooner  saAv 
^he  animals,  than  she  lifted  up  her  voice  in  a  bray 
ithat  woke  the  echoes  for  many  miles  around.  There 
were  mules  in  the  herd,  or  this  bray  would  have  sealed 
my  fate ;  but  not  thinking  of  this  most  fortunate  inci- 
dent, I  tumbled  off  her  back,  thrust  my  hand  into  her 
mouth,  stopped  the  tell-tale  bray,  and  backed  her  out 

4 


:*i«v 


"^ 


'flSv 


^' 


^^^^*s?i 


t,A' 


t^^. 


:^ 


■V  ■ 

i 


J    i 


« 


Is 


.'■-■\i.  ■ 


,  ■•ipl' 


1  '^ 


5*^>Tr^-^'^^^.ii;'?^-V»^?^-^-T»l^^?*,i>:*'*/.-'^7iHC«^,"".'  'j-^'l^:'  ■;';"? v-'-^?.y^?.:.*.i:*W- 


38 


A  PEEP  AT  THE   SAVAGES. 


of  sight  in  the  thicket  in  much  less  time  than  it  take 

to  tell  it. 

After  fastening  her,  I,  from  the  thicket,  carefuUl 
reconnoitred  the  open  space.  The  animals  wer| 
Indian  ponies  and  stolen  stock. 

I  knew  too  much  not  to  be  obliged  to  know  mon 
The  camp  .vas  evidently  just  under  the  bluff.  Crawll 
ing  most  cautiously  to  the  edge,  I  peeped  over  thJ 
bank,  and  my  heart  felt  dead  within  me,  as  I  saw,  no] 
forty  yards  away,  seven  Indians  squatted  around 
pot,  eating  their  breakfast.  I  got  back  to  the  thickc 
as  quickly  and  cautiously  as  possible.  What  to  dc 
was  the  question.  My  mule,  though  strong  anc 
enduring,  was  slow  in  a  race.  I  had  two  alternatives, 
either  to  make  off  at  once  on  the  mule,  trusting  that 
the  Indians  might  not  discover  my  trail  until  I  had  a 
good  start;  or  to  s^^cal  a  horse  and  get  away  on  that. 
Under  the  circumstances  I  had  no  conscientious 
qualms  on  the  matter  of  theft,  but  I  doubted  my 
ability  to  select  the  best  horse;  and  the  selection, and 
the  necessary  change  of  saddle,  would  take  precious 
moments.  Besides,  the  loss  of  a  horse  would  be  dis- 
covered at  once ;  my  trail  might  not  be  noticed  for 
some  time. 

I  mounted  the  mule,  and  proceeded  cautiously  until 
sure  of  being  beyond  hearing  of  the  Indians,  when 
whip  and  spur  were  vigorouslv  applied.  The  mule 
responded  nobly,  and,  as  if  comprehending  the  neces- 
sity for  extra  effort,  fairly  flew  over  the  ground  for 
the  next  five  or  six  miles.  The  Guadalope  was  crossed, 
then  the  Verde,  and  yet  no  sign  or  sound  of  pursuit. 

The  race  so  fav  had  been  on  a  broad  Indian  trail, 
through  wcods  and  thickets,  but  from  the  timbered 
fringe  along  the  Verde  to  the  summit  of  the  pass, 


;  _**:«*:.■-.  S't'^'^' 


^AGES. 

5S  time  than  it  takes 

e  thicket,  carefully 
The  animals  were 

^ed  to  know  more, 
the  bluff.     Crawl- 
[  peeped  over  the 
n  me,  as  I  saw,  not 
squatted  around  a 
)ack  to  the  thicket 
ble.     What  to  do 
ough   strong  and 
d  two  alternatives, 
nile,  trusting  that 
trail  until  I  had  a 
get  aAvay  on  that, 
no    conscientious 
ut  I  doubted  my 
the  selection,  and 
uld  take  pi-ecious 
)rse  would  be  dis- 
ot  be  noticed  for 

d  cautiously  until 
he  Indians,  when 
>ned.     The  mule 
snding  the  neces- 
•  the  ground  for 
lope  was  crossed, 
ound  of  pui-suit. 
)ad  Indian  trail, 
'm  the  timbered 
fiiit  of  the  pass. 


THE  BACE  IS  WON. 


39 


was  a  three-mile  slope  of  bare  prairie.  Until  I  could 
get  through  the  pass  I  was  obliged  to  keep  the  trail, 
the  mountains  being  elsewhere  almost  impassable; 
but  once  through  it  I  was  safe,  for  then,  leaving  the 
trail,  and  plunging  into  the  ravines  and  thickets  of 
the  Medina  River,  I  could  elude  pursuit  until  night 
should  give  me  the  opportunity  to  reach  my  post. 
^\^en  about  half  way  over  this  bare  ground,  to  my 
inexpressible  delight,  I  ran  into  the  trail  of  my  com- 
mand, but  had  hardly  time  to  congratulate  myself 
when  several  Indians  emerged,  in  full  pursuit,  from 
the  thickets  of  the  Verde.  Under  whip  and  spur, 
my  good  mule  soon  brought  me  to  the  summit  of  the 
pass,  and  looking  back  I  found  the  Indians  had 
stopped,  on  striking  the  trail  of  the  troops,  and  were 
carefully  examining  it.  Feeling  very  easy,  I  also 
stopped  to  watch  them,  and  to  give  my  mule  time  to 
recover  her  wind.  After  some  consultation,  the 
Indians  turned  about,  and  went  off  as  fast  as  their 
horses  could  carry  them,  evidently  expecting  that  the 
pursuers  might  in  turn  become  the  pursued.  In  an 
hour  or  two  I  overtook  my  command,  none  the  worse 
for  my  adventure. 

These  experiences,  with  numbers  of  others  of 
similar  character,  though  less  n^arked,  had  come  to 
me  by  the  time  I  was  twenty-three  years  of  age,  and 
had  been  scarcely  two  years  an  officer  of  the  army. 

For  more  than  thirty  years  (with  the  interlude  of 
the  war  of  the  rebellion),  I  have  been  more  or  less 
among  Indians,  having  in  that  time  had  intercourse 
with  thirty-four  tribes,  speaking  different  languages, 
having  somewhat  different  manners  and  customs,  and 
occupying  various  and  widely  sundered  portions  of 
country — from  the  coasts  of  Texas  to  the  waters  of 


■I, 


<v 


/•;'■ 


t 


40 


STUDY  OF   INDIAN   CHARACTER. 


the  Yellowstone;  from  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi  t 
the  Pacific  Ocean.  At  one  time  hunting  Indians,  i 
another  time  being  hunted  by  them ;  now,  associate 
together,  but  at  daggers'  points,  holding  them  i 
check  only  by  the  fear  engendered  by  military  powei 
and  the  stern  enforcement  of  military  rule;  agai 
living  together  in  free  and  unrestrained  friendly  in 
tercourse,  hunting,  fishing,  chatting,  dancing,  visiting 
I  have  had  exceptional  opportunities  for  a  compre 
hensive  knowledge  of  Indian  character. 

In  1872  I  attended  a  grand  Medicine-Dance  of  th 
Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoes  (corresponding  to  thi 
Sun-Dance  of  the  Sioux),  which  lasted  for  severa 
days.  I  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  earnestnes 
of  their  religious  beliefs,  and  the  spirit  of  martyrdor 
which  this  earnestness  develops.  I  determined  t< 
make  a  close  study  of  this  (to  me)  unexpected  ])has 
of  savage  life.  My  first  writings  on  Indians  was  o] 
the  subject  of  their  religion,  and  made  from  notes  anc 
sketches  taken  during  this  great  meeting.  Thesi 
were  necessarily  unsatisfactory.  One  peculiarity 
of  a  people  grows  out  of,  or  is  involved  in,  othe 
peculiarities,  and  I  soon  found  that  I  could  give  n< 
explanation  of  the  Indian  i-eligion  which  would  b( 
satisfactory  even  to  myself,  without  a  thorougl 
knowledge  of  all  his  other  characteristics  and  pecu 
liarities.  From  the  study  of  his  religion  I  began  t( 
study  the  man.  In  this  I  have  been  greatly  lavored 
much  of  the .  last  nine  years  of  my  life  having  beei 
passed  directly  among  the  wild  Indians,  and  with 
peculiarly  exceptional  advantages  of  association  anc 
friendly  intercourse. 

The  result  of  my  studies  under  these  favorable  cir- 
cumstances will  be   found  in  the  following  pages 


.RACTER. 


f  the  Mississippi  to 


MY  DESIRE. 


41 


My  desire  is  to  delineate  the  Indian  exactly  as  he  is 
(judging  him,  however,  necessarily  from  the  civilized 
stancf-point),  to  note  his  peculiarities  of  thought  and 
action,  and  to  give  a  minutely  correct  picture  of  his 
daily  life,  as  connected  with  his  government,  his  reli- 
gion, his  social  and  family  relations.  I  bring  to  this 
task  a  mind  which  I  believe  to  be  unbiassed  by  enthu- 
siastic admiration  for  the  «  noble  Red  Man,"  or  pre- 
judice against  the  ignoble  savage.  My  desire  is  to 
state  "  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth."  If  I  err,  the  fault  is  in  my  perceptive  facul- 
ties, not  in  the  intention  of  the  expression  of  them. 


.'I  I 


1 


hese  favorable  cir- 


y^^:^ 


■h 


s 


CP 


rr 


CHAPTER  II. 


BEYOND    THE    MISSISSIPPI  —  THE     LANGUAGE,    NUM- 


BEKS,     HABITS, 
GREAT  WEST. 


ETC.,     OF     THE     INDIANS     OF    THI 


Origin  of  the  American  Indians  —  The  Defect  of  Writers  on  the  Indiani 

—  Wonderful  Diversity  of  the  Indian  Language  —  Curious  Facts  an( 
Tendencies  —  Tlic  Effect  of  War  —  Stupendous  Vanity  —  Inventioi 
of  Dialects  —  The  Passion  for  War  —  The  Crafty  and  Bloodthirsty 
Apaches  —  The  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoes  —  A  Marvellous  Allianc« 

—  The  Sign  Language  —  Estimates  of  Population  —  Superstitiou! 
Dread  of  being  Counted  —  Indian  Extermination  —  Nomadic  Pro 
clivities  —  The  Winter  Encampment  —  Home  Attachments  —  Lov< 
for  an  Old  Encampment  —  Cherished  Memories — "Home  Sickness 

—  Mental  Peculiarities  —  Acute  Perceptions  —  Ill-Directed  Efforts- 
Indian  Schools  —  Indian  Orators  —  IIow  they  Rehearse  their  Speechei 

—  Swaying  a  Savage  Audience. 

jSTT    discussion   of  the   origin  of  the 

American  Indians    is   out   of    place 

and  unnecessary,  until  scientific  men 

have  finally  agreed  as  to  the   origin 

of  the  human   race.      Suffice  to  say 

here  that  the  Indian  is,  to  my  mind, 

an   evidence   of  the  unity  of  races. 

T<^  Wherever  we  find  them,  savages   have 

"    something    in  common   each   with   the 

other,  and  the  most  civilized  races  have  not  so  far 

outgrown  their  ancestry   as  to  have  entirely  gotten 

rid  of  every  savage  trait. 

Supposing  the  Western  continent  to  have  been 
originally  uninhabited  by  man,  there  is  no  physical  or 

42 


mi 


Y^'f^^'t^')'''^^-'!'^'^  •  •"i:';:"-'!'"  H-rJ 


.v-ff-.--y-. 


.^iiii';' ;?'!?<'!  •'•■(■-i;'-,y/'|j  if  ;:_-5,\v;j>i?:-^^ 


OATLIN. 


43 


iANGUAGE,    NUM- 
INDIANS     OF    THE 


)f  Writers  on  the  Imlians 
age  —  Curious  Facts  and 
lous  Vanity  —  Invention 
Crafty  and  Bloodthii-sty 

—  A  Marvellous  Alliance 
»pulation  —  Superstitious 
ination  —  Nomatlic  Pro- 
ne AtUxchments  —  Love 
fies— "Home  Sickness" 

—  Ill-Direoted  Efforts  — 
Rehearse  their  Speeches 


the   origin  of  the 

is   out   of   place 

titil  scientific  men 

as  to  the   origin 

SufHce  to  say 

n  is,  to  my  mind, 

e  unity  of  races. 

m,  savages   have 

1   each   with    the 

I  have  not  so  far 

^e  entirely  gotten 

it  to  have  been 
is  no  jDhysical  or 
42 


geographical  reason  why  it  should  not  have  been 
peopled  from  Asia  or  elsewhere.  Even  before  the 
days  of  David,  people  "went  down  to  the  sea  in 
ships; "  the  winds  blew  then  as  now,  and  a  succession 
of  adverse  storms  might  have  peopled  America,  from 
any  one  of  the  earlier  maritime  nations  of  the  Eastern 
world. 

Whether  the  very  many  customs  which  the  Indians 
have  in  common  with  the  ancient  Jews  arc  evidences 
that  the  "  Lost  Tribes  "  have  been  found,  or  whether 
the  fair  complexion,  blue  eyes,  similarity  of  language 
and  "  coracle  "  of  the  Mandans,  prove  that  the  Welsh 
expedition  under  Madoc  really  settled  on  the  banks 
of  the  Ohio,  it  is  not  my  purpose  to  inquire. 

My  object  is  to  give  a  minute  and  accurate  account 
of  the  manners,  customs,  habits,  social  life,  and  modes 
of  thought  of  the  wild  Indians  of  the  present  day. 

Many  admirable  writers  have  preceded  me  on  this 
subject.  Chief  of  all,  and,  illustrating  and  ennobling 
his  theme  with  both  pen  and  brush,  is  Catlin.  But 
the  supreme  defect  of  Catlin,  and,  indeed,  of  almost 
all  writers  on  the  Indian,  is,  that  they  have  contented 
themselves  with  externals;  giving  page  after  page, 
illustration  after  illustration,  to  portraiture  of  dress, 
dances,  ceremonies ;  but  scarcely  a  word  to  govern- 
ment, religion,  character,  social  life,  etc. 

Catlin,  who,  of  all  other  writers,  has  had  the  most 
perfect  opportunities,  is,  of  all  others,  most  remiss  in 
this  particular,  and,  however  much  the  reader  may 
enjoy  his  vivid  descriptions  and  graphic  illustrations 
of  scenes  and  incid  jnts,  it  is  impossible  to  finish  his 
book  without  a  feeling  of  dissatisfaction. 

We  see  the  Indian  in  a  thousand  curious  and 
picturesque   scenes,  but  we  see  him  as  we  see  the 


I 


>(•- 

•'»^i 


'  •«. 


fTT 


M?^ 


-tffa 


^ 


^t^^jC 


(f-*:^ 


^' 


<^; 


i\    P 


?3b^ 


<-'p 


^Z' 


-K; 


1 


ife- 


ii?';^. 


-^ty^. 


ii 


^x 


I 


; 


n 


i  i 


€^1. 


'!-ft.;rt-r;':"r. 


44 


DIVERSITY   OF  LANGUAGE. 


actor  on  the   stage.     However  beautiful   the   dre 
and  faultless  the  delineation,  we  do  not  know  hii 
Our  natural   curiosity   is  not  gratified   by   even 
glimpse  of  his  every-day  character,  or  peep  into  tl 
scenes  of  his  every-day  life. 

In  my  own  reading  I  have  found  this  to  be  the  oi 
great  lack  of  all  writers  on  the  Indian,  and  to  supp 
this  lack,  to  the  extent  of  my  ability,  is  the  purpoj 
and  intent  of  these  pages. 

Whether  the  Indian  languages  have  been  derive 
from  one,  or  from  several  roots,  must,  and  probab 
will,  be  determined  by  the  eminent  philologists  wl 
are  now  making  this  subject  their  special  study. 

Their  great  number  and  infinite  dissimilarity  ha^ 
always  excited  the  marvel  of  all  who  have  had  cans 
to  look  into  the  matter,  either  by  contact  with  Ir 
dians,  or  through  books. 

At  the  present  moment,  there  is,  for  about  ever 
thousand  of  the  !N"orth  American  Indians,  a  language 
more  or  less  imperfect,  but  amply  sufiicient  for  a 
the  needs  of  an  illiterate  people,  and  differing  i 
every  essential  particular  from  every  other  languag< 
This  wonderful  diversity  can  only  be  accounted  fc 
by  a  knowledge  of  the  Indian  character  and  habits. 

Wiir  is,  and  so  far  as  we  can  know  from  histor 
and  tradition,  has  always  been,  the  pleasure  and  pas 
sion  of  the  Indian.  With  or  without  cause,  tribe 
occupying  lands  adjacent  to  each  other  were  almog 
constantly  on  the  war-path. 

Each  tribe,  with  vanity  not  entirely  aborigina 
believed  in  its  own  infinite  superiority,  and  disdaine 
to  learn  even  a  few  words  of  its  enemy's  language 
though  this  might  easily  have  been  done  throng 
prisoners.    This  warlike  disposition  and  the  necessit 


MB 


'•^vx^^-r.;/j!.f..);  ■/;?,;•■■ 


^f}jw<%'$M^^}^:^^vii ' 


i^-*3-*r<f,7T,p;'^S:;-j«y:,.nr*fv;,f^i^jf.;rt-",.-;.P.Tf,';^     - ,.  .■  ■#-\*- - 


WAGE. 


DISINTEGRATION   OF  LANGUAGE. 


45 


beautiful  the  dress 
do  not  know  him. 
ratified  by  even  a 
er,  or  peep  into  the 

d  this  to  be  the  one 
idian,  and  to  supply 
lity,  is  the  purpose 

have  been  derived 
must,  and  probably 
It  philologists  who 

special  study. 
2  dissimilarity  have 
vho  have  had  cause 
y  contact  with  In- 

is,  for  about  every 
ndians,  a  language, 
ly  sufficient  for  all 
B,  and  differing   in 
3ry  other  language. 
y  be  accounted  for 
•acter  and  habits, 
mow  from  history 
!  pleasure  and  pas- 
hout  cause,  tribes 
other  were  almost 

itirely  aboriginal, 
•ity,  and  disdained 
memy's  language, 
sen  done  through 
and  the  necessity 


for  widely  extended  domains  (entailed  on  all  people 
who  live  solely  by  the  chase)  kept  the  tribes  far  apart. 
There  were  no  intermarriages,  no  social  intercourse, 
no  intermingling  of  any  kind,  except  that  of  mortal 
strife.  There  was  no  disposition  and  little  oppor- 
tunity to  learn  anything  of  the  language  of  their 
neighbors,  and  thus  to  adopt  words  and  phrases  not 
properly  belonging  to  their  own  language. 

So  long  as  a  tribe  was  surrounded  closely  by 
powerful  and  warlike  neighbors,  it  remained  intact, 
keeping  in  large  villages  and  under  control  of  one 
chief.  When  those  neighbors  were  driven  off,  or, 
through  their  own  successes  elsewhere,  moved  away, 
and  the  tribal  territory  became  greatly  extended,  the 
tribe  broke  up  into  bands  for  the  more  easy  and  con- 
venient supply  of  food.  This  was  the  opportunity  of 
the  ambitious  sub-chiefs,  leaders  of  bands,  who, 
preferring  to  be  chiefs  of  small  bands  rather  than 
sub-chiefs  of  large  ones,  took  every  care  to  prevent 
any  subsequent  concentration  except  when  forced  to 
it  by  war,  or  by  the  imperative  demand  of  the 
"Medicine  Chief,"  the  suiDremc  expounder  of  relig- 
ious doctrine  and  dogma. 

At  this  moment,  there  are  no  less  than  sixty-six 
bands  of  Utes,  separated  widely  in  localities,  and 
speaking  languages  undoubtedly  referable  to  one 
root,  but  so  various  as  to  dialect,  that  any  but  the 
closest  observer  might  with  reason  insist  that  they 
are  different  languages. 

So,  also,  there  are  thirty-four  different  bands  of 
Sioux,  which  were  rapidly  undergoing  the  same 
process  of  disintegration  of  language,  until  the  gov- 
ernment unwittingly  stopped  it,  by  concentrating 
these  Indians  on  reservations. 


■t 


■V. 


'A. 

■  '  ^^ 
■J- 


■mi 


xl" 


-,  *^ 


<f 


"'WJT,  -f^'-'.'^T 


■;-f'i.\i»->^J-r-7y\\  '■• 


;7M'»;;i'<-^  VJ'^lfJ'V 


■''"^34: 


46 


CONFUSION  OF  TONGUES. 


There  arc  nineteen  bands  of  Shoshones  or  Snak 
two  bands  of  which,  wandering  eastward  over 
Kocky  Mountains,  became  entirely  estranged  fr 
the  parent  tribe,  and  are  now  known  as  Bannocl 
having  lost  even   their  tribal  name.     They  cann 
speak  w  understand  a  word  of  their  mother  tongi 

There  are  twenty-eight  bands  of  Apaches,  speakii 
dialects  of  the  same  language,  and  undoubtedly  o 
shoots  from  the  same  parent  stock;  yet,  before  th< 
were  conquered  and  placed  on  reservations,  th< 
waged  incessant  war  with  each  other,  and  no  trib 
on  this  continent  were  more  bitterly  and  uncon 
promisingly  hostile,  than  were  these  bands  of  tl 
Bame  tribe,  one  to  the  other. 

The  Apaches  were  strong  in  numbers,  warlike  i 
spirit,  crafty  and  energetic  in  action,  and  occupied 
country  almost  inaccessible  to  whites.  But  for  thi 
internecine  strife,  it  would  have  cost  the  United  State 
Government  many  years  of  bloody  and  expensive  wa 
to  have  subdued  them. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  his  own  warlike  tempera 
ment  and  disposition  to  roam  have  been  to  the  India 
the  cause — fruitful  as  Babel — of  the  confusion  o 
tongues.  There  are  other  causes  which  may  not  ha" 
been  without  effect,  to  add  to  this  confusion.  Th 
indisposition  or  inability  of  the  Plains  Indians  to  lear 
a  spoken  language  other  than  their  own,  undoubted! 
led  to  the  adoption  of  the  E'ign-language  as  a  mediui 
of  communication,  and  the  knowledge  of  this,  reacting 
forever  precluded  the  necessity  of  learning  any  on 
language. 

For  sixty  years  the  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoe 
have  been  the  firmest  friends,  occupying  the  sam 
country,  living  in  the  same  camps,  making  peace  c 


.-'..J  \'^\::i*ii^.-.  f^.-ftbi^:.  '.»...s:\;-»s."=i'..w.--5  S'.A^^  .'.".^ 


>iL.j:'j"i».^'V*:'*^--  '■»•  V 


v'.  ^  '^'-r*ji)''M.-''-j*'i»  ^'--^wr  -^jj  ^f^ijti'',  •■^«"j-'f-'^;nnr  Wk"**- 


TRADER'S  WORDS. 


47 


war  with  the  same  enemies  at  the  sumc  time,  and 
conducting  themselves  in  everything  (except  inter- 
marriages) as  if  they  were  one  and  the  same  tribe. 

The  children  play,  fight,  hunt,  and  constantly  asso- 
ciate together,  yet  not  one  in  ten  of  the  men,  women, 
or  children  of  either  tribe  can  hold  even  the  most 
ordinary  conversation  in  the  language  of  the  other. 

What  makes  this  fact  yet  more  remarkable  is,  that 
while  one  language  is  comparatively  easy,  the  other 
is  so  exceedingly  difficult,  that  even  the  best  inter- 
preters are  forced  to  resort  to  sign-language. 

Under  these  most  exceptional  circumstances,  it 
would  seem  inevitable  that  the  easy  language  would 
in  time  become  the  common  means  of  communication 
of  the  two  tribes.  Such,  however,  is  not  the  case; 
each  tribe  uses  its  own  language  to  communicate 
with  its  own  people,  and  the  sign-language  to  com- 
municate with  the  people  of  the  other  tribe. 

When  the  white  trader  invaded  the  solitudes  of 
the  Indian,  he  took  with  him,  or  soon  picked  up,  a 
small  stock  of  wo^'^.s  which,  by  his  constant  use 
among  the  tribes,  have  become,  as  it  were,  common 
property;  thus  "squaw,"  the  Narragansett  name  for 
woman,  the  Algonquin  "papoose  "  for  child,  "chuck," 
food,  and  many  other  words,  have  become  universal 
among  all  the  North  American  Indians  east  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  when  speaking  to  a  white  man,  or 
Indian  not  of  their  own  tribe. 

The  maltitude  of  languages  is  a  peculiarity  of 
savage  life.  Let  the  student  remember  the  condition, 
in  this  respect,  of  Northern  and  Western  Europe, 
even  as  late  as  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar;  of  Africa 
and  South  America  at  the  present  day,  and  (without 
intending  to  be  facetious,  and  with  the  desire  simply 


'•v' 

'V: 


.■.if 


^ 


■■■/,.'       __ 

■In 


■;.4- 


-tfSSi 


.-y  ?  : 


^Wi'/" 


:^k>: 


^-<"/ 


^^ 


?i3t 


'j^^5S 


^Jf^^BK 


'k 


48 


NUMBERS. 


to  call  attention  to  the  tenacity  with  which  barbaroui 
peculiarities  of  language  hold  their  grip  on  humai 
nature,)  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Wales,  througl 
which,  even  in  this  enlightened  age,  an  Americai 
can  scarcely  travel,  satisfactorily  to  himself,  withou 
an  interpreter. 

As  in  all  other  matters  where  mere  guess-work  fonni 
the  basis  of  argument,  authorities  differ  extremely  ai 
to  the  probable  Indian  population  of  the  country  nov 
known  as  the  United  States  at  the  time  of  its  firs 
settlement  by  whites,  these  estimates  varying  fron 
three  hundred  thousand  to  three  millions.  Basinf 
my  guess  on  my  knowledge  of  the  wai'like  dispo 
sition  of  the  Indians;  of  their  natural  tendency 
constantly  to  split  into  bands,  which  possibly  sooi 
became  fiercely  hostile  to  each  other;  of  the  wide 
extent  of  territory  required  by  each  tribe,  not  onl^ 
for  its  food-supply,  but  for  its  safety;  and  of  th( 
almost  universal  lack  of  fecundity  of  their  women,  ] 
am  of  opinion  that  the  number  of  the  aboi'iginal  in- 
habitants of  the  territory  mentioned  has  never  at  an^ 
one  time  much  exceeded  half  a  million  of  souls. 

The  number  of  Indians  has  always  been,  and  it 
now,  very  greatly  overrated.  This  comes  from  th( 
vanity  of  the  individual  Indian,  who,  if  asked  aboul 
his  tribe,  will  tell  you  that  they  are  as  "  the  leaves  or 
the  trees"  for  numbers;  and  from  the  intcrestec 
reports  of  agents,  who  dearly  like  to  feed,  on  paper 
a  tribe  of  a  thousand  Indians,  but  which  has  actually 
only  five  hundred  (or  less)  mouths. 

Catlin,  on  the  authority  of  Major  Pilcher,  an  Indiar 
Agent,  estimates  the  Blackfeet  at  sixty  thousand 
(about  1835).  There  were  really,  probably,  not 
more  than  a  fourth  of  that  number. 


INDIAK  EXTERMINATORS. 


49 


h  which  barbarous 
irgrip  on  human 
d  Wales,  through 
age,  an  American 
0  himself,  without 

e  guess-work  fonns 
differ  extremely  as 
)f  the  country  now 
le  time  of  its  first 
ates  varying  fi-om 
millions.     Basing 
he  wai'like  dispo- 
natural   tendency 
lich  possibly  soon 
»ther;  of  the  wide 
ich  ti-ibe,  not  only 
afety;  and  of  the 
of  their  women,  I 
the  aboi'iginal  in- 
d  has  never  at  any 
lion  of  souls, 
^-ays  been,  and  is 
3  comes  from  the 
10,  if  asked  about 
as  "  the  leaves  on 
m  the   interested 
'o  feed,  on  paper, 
*^hich  has  actually 

Pilcher,  an  Indian 
t  sixty  thousand 
Yy  probably,   not 

p. 


All  Indians  have  a  strong  superstitious  repugnance 
to  being  counted,  and  this  of  late  years,  (that  is  since 
the  government  has  been  issuing  rations  to  Indians), 
is  liable  to  a  suspicion  of  self-interest,  the  Indians 
themselves  entirely  appreciating  the  advantage  of 
getting  from  the  agent  five  hundred  rations  for  three 
hundred  or  less  mouths. 

The  number  of  Indians  in  the  United  States  (ex- 
clusive of  Alaska),  as  stated  in  the  last  official  report 
of  the  Commissioner  of  Indian  Affairs,  is,  in  round 
numbers,  two  hundred  and  fifty- three  thousand.  This 
is  probably  at  least  one-fifth  too  great,  but  it  will  be 
impossible  to  arrive  at  the  exact  population  so  long 
as  the  government  makes  it  to  the  interest  both  of  the 
agent  and  of  the  Indian  to  exaggerate  their  numbers. 

The  Indians  have,  undoubtedly,  greatly  diminished 
in  numbers  within  the  last  fifty  years.  This  is  not 
due  to  imusual  wars,  nor  even  to  the  white  man's  fire- 
water (as  is  commonly  believed),  but  principally  to 
those  great  Indian  exterminators,  small  pox,  measles, 
and  cholera,  and  to  that  "humane"  policy  of  the 
government,  which  takes  Indians  from  salubrious 
mountainous  regions,  and  settles  them  on  reserva- 
tions in  malarious  districts,  where  they  arc  soon  deci- 
mated by  fever  and  nostalgia. 

Probably  because  they  live  in  tents,  which  are 
easily  and  frequently  removed,  we  generally  think 
and  sjioak  of  Indians  as  "nomads."  They  are  no- 
madic, but  this  peculiar  life  does  not  prevent  their 
having  the  strongest  possible  "  home "  attachment, 
and  the  most  ardent  love  of  country.  I  have  already 
spoken  of  the  wide  extent  of  territory  necessary  to 
the  comfortable  existence  of  even  a  small  tribe.  Dur- 
ing the  spring,  summer,  and  autumn,  the  tribe  roams 


X 


.■!?; 


'i" 


■■'tfiTm  \i*ity^',i^  -^in/ 


-j;*»y.,-»f 


Wei 


■'i%/ 


50 


LOVERS  or  COUNTRY. 


at  will  throughout  the  whole  length  and  breadth  of 
thip  territory,  wherever  it  is  led  by  abundance  of 
grass  for  their  ponies,  or  food  for  themselves,  the 
camp  being  changed  as  frequently  as  necessity  or 
caprice  indicates.  Within  the  limits  of  their  territory, 
and  during  the  seasons  mentioned,  Indians  are  veri- 
table "  nomads." 

The  winter  encampment  is  regarded  by  them  as 
pck'mancnt,  its  location  not  being  changed  during  the 
whole  three,  four,  or  five  months  of  cold  and  bad 
weather.  The  spot  selected  for  the  winter  encamp- 
ment one  year  may  be  many  miles  away  from  that 
selected  the  year  before  or  the  year  after;  but  the 
memory  of  each  is  affectionately  cherished;  a  specially 
good  and  happy  encampment  not  unfrequently  giving 
the  name  to  the  year. 

Outside  the  limits  of  their  territory  Indians  never 
go,  except  on  war  or  hunting  parties ;  on  rare  occa- 
sions to  pay  a  visit  of  ceremony  to  a  neighboring 
friendly  tribe;  or  on  long  solitary  journeys,  as  will  be 
described. 

Within  the  limits  of  their  territory  they  are  "  no- 
mads," but  the  territory  itself  is  their  home.  Their 
attachment  to  it  is  one  of  the  strongest  traits  of 
their  character.  Ko  people  are  more  truly  "  lovers  of 
their  country,"  no  people  suffer  more  from  "home- 
sickness," when  forced  to  leave  it. 

The  mental  capacity  of  the  Indian  is  of  superior 
order.  His  perceptive  faculties  are  remarkably  de- 
veloped, and  his  reasoning  powers  ai'e  not  to  be 
despised,  however  crude.  He  is  thoroughly  master 
of  all  branches  of  education  necessary  to  the  comfort 
and  safety  of  his  savage  life,  thus  giving  evidence  of 
capacity  for  a  higher  order  of  education. 


I 


'  I 


'^'i..i^<-r''^v^t''^. 


'^ii^yJK.iicc  ',  ■".j*e^-,iit,'-"L'^',  '/}iaz:'' 


yptXtyj' i^rt^--^!  . 


PUBLIC  SPEAKING. 


51 


of 

of 

the 

or 

|?ri- 


That  he  has  shown  little  aptitude  for,  or  devotion 
to,  the  rudiments  of  our  civilized  education,  is  due 
partly  to  his  excitability  of  temperament  and  impa- 
tience of  restraint,  and  partly  to  the  simple  fact  that 
'those  who  had  charge  of  his  education  cared  more  for 
their  compensation  than  for  the  progress  of  their 
pupils,  or  were  impressed  with  the  idea  that  tho 
necessities  of  his  soul  were  paramount  to  those  of  his 
intellect.  Until  very  recently  the  efforts  at  Indian 
education  were  so  ill-directed,  so  entirely  unadapted 
to  the  real  necessities  of  the  problem,  as  to  be  absurd. 

No  important  question  can  be  decided  among 
Indians  without  a  vast  amount  of  verbiage;  and  tho 
faculty  of  speech-making  seems  to  be  even  more 
universal  among  lied,  than  White  Americans. 

Every  male  Indian  is  his  own  reporter,  his  own 
newspaper.  lie  is  expected  and  required  to  sound 
his  own  praises,  and  to  be  modest  about  it  would 
only  redound  to  his  discredit. 

Knowing  that  he  is  obliged  to  speak  in  public,  ho 
spends  no  little  time,  not  only  in  the  preparation  and 
elaboration  of  the  matter  of  his  speech,  but  by  fre- 
quent rehearsal  satisfies  himself  in  the  manner. 

Almost  every  warrior  speaks  well,  some  few  of  them 
eloquently;  but  his  best  efforts  are  those  addressed 
to  his  own  people,  when  seeking  to  establish  his 
reputation  as  a  warrior  and  orator,  or  when  endeavor- 
ing to  sway  his  audience  to  his  own  views  on  some 
contested  point  of  Indian  policy.  As  a  rule,  his 
speeches  to  white  people  are  trite  and  commonplace, 
a  parade  of  the  Indian  poverty,  as  compared  to  the 
white  man's  wealth;  and  his  peroration  is  almost  in- 
variably a  whining  and  abject  appeal  to  the  charity 
of  his  hearers. 


« 


■Km 


■■\;i^»lvP^;i':F>f'>"/iI?,i7'V;':yK!j! 


^ 


m 


■■*v 


CHAPTER  III. 

WILD    LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS  —  INDIAN    CHARACTER, 
TRAITS,  AND  PECULIARITIES. 

The  Country  of  the  "Plains  Inul.^ns"  — The  Dream  of  an  Enthusiast  — 
The  Indian  as  he  is  —  His  Conduct  in  tlie  Presence  of  Strangera  — 
Clotlies  Only  for  Show  —  His  Conduct  in  his  Own  Camp  —  A  Rollick- 
ing Miscreant  —  Night  Scenes  in  an  Indian  Camp  —  The  Disgrace  of 
being  Surprised  —  A  Pair  of  Climbing  Boots  —  The  Hero  of  the  Tele- 
graph Pole  -  How  a  Lady  Excited  Surprise  and  Admiration  —  A 
Comical  Incident  —  The  Stoiy  of  a  Wooden  Leg  —  Carrying  a  Joke 
too  Far  —  A  Summary  Ejectment  —  Endurance  of  Pain  —  Patience, 
an  Indian  Virtue— Blowing  his  Own  Trumpet  — Extravagant  Solf- 
Praise  — An  Indian's  Idea  of  Modesty  —  Honor  among  Thieves  — 
Kicked  Out  of  Camp  — Early  Lessons  in  Stealing  —  Apt  Pupils  —  A 
Flagi-ant  Case  —  A  Fair  Field  and  No  Favor  —  Difterences  of  Opinion. 

"  HE  term  "  Indian  "  is  applied  to  all  the 

aboriginal  inhabitants  of  the  Western 
Hemisphere ;  comprising  hundreds, 
possibly  thousands  of  tribes,  occupy- 
ing every  diversity  of  climate  from 
Arctic  snows  to  Equatorial  heats. 
As  climate  exerts  a  marked  influence 
<rvQW  not  only  on  the  habits,  but  on  the  char- 
^  acter  of  a  people,  it  is  not  possible,  nor  to 
be  expected,  that  these  tribes  can  be  grouped  in  any 
truthful  common  description. 

Ulloa  has  said:  "  See  one  Indian  and  y^".  have  seen 
all,"  a  remark  neither  witty  nor  wise.  With  equal 
truth  he  might  have  said:  ''See  one  oavage  and  you 
have  seen  all,"  or  "  See  one  European  and  you  have 
seen  all." 

63 


vrf;i-i 


J'lm'ltin^AU 


i-">7r? 


-  »'5'<..7!^;*v'; 


■  --^T-  ■;''»••  1^'-  "^"^^^  r^V/f-Vl^VV  "'"* 


'Myi'"-'- 


SB, 


It  — 


►  • 


THE  PLAINS. 


y^'^^^T?)^  t'l'^i^i^i/rj: 


53 


Even  wit'  the  comparatively  narrow  limits  of  the. 
United  States,  the  Indian  tribes,  though  presenting  a 
general  similarity  of  character,  vary  in  habits,  man- 
ners, customs  and  beliefs,  in  so  remarkable  a  degree, 
that  no  general  description  is  applicable  to  all,  except, 
that  all  are  savage,  ail  are  swindled,  starved,  and 
imposed  upon. 

Though  I  have  served  in  almost  every  portion  of 
our  wide  frontier,  my  largest  experience  has  been 
with  the  "  Plains  Indians,"  those  inhabiting  the  coun- 
try between  the  Mississippi  River  and  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  Among  these  Indians  J  have  spent 
many  years,  much  of  the  time  in  peaceful,  every  day 
intercourse. 

Within  the  limits  specified,  reside  at  the  present 
time  not  less  than  sixty  distinct  tribes,  cut  up  into 
bands  innumerable,  comprising  more  than  half  of 
the  whole  Indian  population  of  the  United  States. 

Extending  from  the  British  line  almost  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico,  they  would  appear  to  be  subjected 
to  such  climatic  variation  as  might  greatly  influence 
their  character.  That  this  is  not  the  case  is  due  to 
the  peculiarity  of  those  great  elevated  plains,  or 
steppes,  high,  dry,  and  generally  destitute  of  trees, 
except  along  the  margin  of  streams.  All  these  tribes 
are  mounted,  and  all,  until  recently,  depended  upon 
the  buffalo  for  all  the  necessaries  and  comforts  of  life. 

Though  distinct  in  language,  differing  somewhat 
in  character,  and  each  tribe,  as  a  rule,  hostile  to  all 
others,  their  common  necessities  have  so  assimilated 
their  habits  and  modes  of  thought  as  to  enable  the 
student  to  group  them,  for  description,  into  one  gen- 
eral class. 

These  Indians  I  know  best,  and  from  them  I  have 


■■'f>, 


ft 


,1" 


-;«. 


Pj#3 


'^; 


«=%>• 


■m 


^?^:\«''-^:'>--^.- 


54 


THE   IDEAL   INDIAN. 


N. 


drawn  most  of  my  illustrations.  In  the  following 
pages,  when  I  speak  of  Indians,  I  mean  the  "  Plains 
Indians,"  except  when  the  context  shows  that  I  mean 
the  whole  race.  When  I  wish  to  draw  attention  to 
the  peculiarities  of  other  Indians,  as  Utes,  Apaches, 
etc.,  I  will  speak  of  them  by  name. 

The  ideal  Indian  of  Cooper  is  a  creation  of  his 
own  prolific  brain.  I^o  such  savage  as  Uncas  ever 
existed,  or  could  exist,  and  no  one  knew  this  better 
than  Cooper  himself.  All  hostile  Indians  —  Mingoes, 
Iroquois,  etc.  —  are  painted  as  fiends,  in  whom  the 
furies  themselves  would  have  delighted. 

His  stories  are  striking  and  artistic,  but  they  will 
not  bear  the  test  of  consistent  criticism.  He  assumed 
his  ideal,  clothed  him  in  moral  and  Christian  virtues, 
and  placed  him  prominently  in  contrast  with  his  sur- 
roundings. How  he  could  possibly  have  arrived  at 
those  good  qualities,  when  born  and  rehired  among 
savages  without  a  moral  code,  is  a  question  that  ad- 
mits of  but  one  answer, — "no  such  individual  could 
possibly  have  existed." 

The  wild  Indian  of  to-day  is  the  Mingo  painted  by 
Cooper,  modified  somewhat  by  time  and  his  sur- 
roundings; a  human  being,  in  the  earliest  stage  of 
development;  a  natural  man. 

Of  all  writers  on  the  IS'orth  American  Indians, 
Catlin  deservedly  stands  first.  In  an  intercourse 
with  Indians  extending  over  half  an  ordinary  life- 
time, I  have  frequently  been  struck  by  his  quickness 
of  apprehension,  and  the  vividness  of  his  colorings 
of  Indian  life.  But  Catlin,  as  he  himself  admits, 
was  an  enthusiast.  Though  a  poor  painter,  he  was 
wrapped  up  in  his  art  of  painting.  Give  him  a  model 
suited  to  his  taste,  —  a  wild,  free  savage,  adorned 


ij  Jjf.  ^'n«.  .ii^i. 


'yL.'i^rr-^:Yi~'^}^f^ 


;^^^'i>5,f-<r,/\":~--?:;.^it'-f>S;-i"'f^»Vw-»  ,5r^;■^^»,^nc■~^■•!■■'f'*■:p:•«^-.•f■p^:;•'i'■;'>J^^^  ;»-^-^^ 


AS  ENTHUSIAST. 


55 


with  all  the  tinsel-trappings  of  barbarous  life,  —  and 
he  immediately  clothed  him  with  all  Christian  virtues 
and  Imightly  honors. 

His  pen-portraits  of  Indians  are  admirable  in  one 
sense,  in  another  faulty  beyond  measure.  Indians  of 
whom  he  wrote  are  still  living,  their  tribes  maintain- 
ing to  this  day  the  same  manners  and  customs  which 
h*^  so  vividly  describes.  To  see  them  now  is  to  have 
seen  them  then,  yet  how  diiferent  the  pictures  from 
those  he  drew.  He  could  see  only  the  natural  noble 
qualities.  To  the  natural  ignoble  qualities  (insepa- 
rable from  the  savage  state)  he  evii»ced  a  blindness 
inexplicable  in  a  man  of  such  perceptive  faculties, 
except  on  the  hypothesis  of  excessive  enthusiasm. 

Of  the  miserably  low  condition  of  the  Crows  and 
Blackfeet,  he  has  not  a  word  to  say,  but  gives  pages 
of  eloquent  writing  to  the  beauties  of  their  dresses 
and  the  magnificent  length  of  their  hair. 

He  descants  on  the  modesty  of  some  tribes,  but 
tells  us,  in  almost  the  same  breath,  tli  it  sevei*al  fami- 
lies, consisting  of  men  with  two,  three,  or  more 
wives,  and  children  of  all  .  f^es  and  sexes,  occupy,  for 
all  purposes,  one  single  lodge  of  twelve  or  fifteen 
feet  in  diameter. 

His  whole  attention  is  occupied  with  externals,  — 
dress,  dances,^  religious  and  other  ceremonies.  No- 
where does  he  give  us  a  close  insight  into  their  inner 
life,  their  religion,  social  and  domestic  habits  and 
customs.  Had  he  written  of  these  things,  his  char- 
acters must  have  assumed  other  shadings  than  those 
his  "  fancy  painted." 

Plere  and  there  throughout  his  works  are  evidences 
that  he  does  see  these  things,  but  is  detenuined  to 
say  nothing  about  them.    He  evidently  regarded  the 


■■Vii 


% 


"■i\  ts' ,''",".T 


56 


THE   RACE   OF   PROGRESS. 


S<^J^ 


.vc- 


-Isiv' 


'»i 


4 

v- 
A- 


Indian  as  doomed  to  speedy  extinction,  and  in  so  far, 
already  dead.  He  constitutes  himself  his  biographer, 
and  closely  adheres  to  the  ehai'itable  Roman  maxim, 
"  nil  de  mortuis  nisi  honum,''  (say  nothing  but  good 
of  the  dead). 

Writing  of  the  Indian  of  forty  years  ago,  Catlin 
says,  "  In  his  native  state,  he  is  an  honest,  hospitable, 
brave,  warlike,  cruel,  revengeful,  relentless,  yet  honor- 
able, contemplative,  and  religious  being."  To  these 
epithets,  which  are  yet  true  in  a  certain  sense,  as  I 
shall  show  hereafter,  I  add,  that  he  is  vain,  crafty, 
deceitful,  ungrateful,  treacherous,  grasping,  and  ut- 
terly selfish.  He  is  lecherous,  without  honoi-  or 
mercy ;  filthy  in  his  ideas  and  speech,  and  inconceiv- 
ably dirty  in  person  and  manners.  He  is  affection- 
ate, patient,  self-reliant,  and  enduring.  He  has  a 
marvellous  instinct  in  travelling,  and  a  memoiy  of 
apparently  unimportant  landmarks  simply  wonderful. 
In  shoi't,  he  has  the  ordinary  good  and  bad  qualities 
of  the  mere  animal,  modified  to  some  extent  by 
reason. 

Primitive  man  is  an  animal  differing  from  other 
animals  in  but  one  single  quality,  the  greater  develop- 
ment of  the  reasoning  faculties.  The  condition  of 
the  races  of  mankind  is  simply  the  greater  or  less 
progression  of  each  from  that  starting-point.  The 
Indian,  though  so  far  behind  in  this  race  of  progress 
as  to  be  still  a  savage,  is  yet  far  ahead  of  many  tribes 
and  people.  The  grand  difference  between  the  N'crth 
American  Indian  and  the  civilized  people  of  the  same 
continent  comes  not  from  degrees  of  intelligence,  or 
forms  of  religion,  but  from  what  we  call  morality. 
The  intellect  of  an  Indian  may  be  as  acute  as  that  of 
a  congressman,  and  his  religion  as  austere  as  that  of 


.. 


■■'*■'■  "f  '^<  ■•*  "■ 


"''^"'' ■*c'.:'"'^*'T'-"  \^<i''^''y^^y'j^^-f^'^'^y'-''^)^-^^^^^^^^  ■'v^',"    ^-w^v.^'f^'y-yf'^: 


RELIGION  AND   MORALITY. 


-.■iHf  S\'if^.  ■i-'ii'-; 


57 


a  bishop,  yet  he  remains  a  savage  simply  from  lack 
of  a  code  of  morals. 

People  of  enlightened  countries,  particularly  moral 
and  Christian  people  of  our  own  land,  will  have 
difHculty  in  understanding  this  lack. 

Religion  is  the  disposition  of  man  to  recognize 
some  power  superior  to,  and  hidden  from,  himself. 
It  is  innate,  a  part  of  the  constitution  of  man,  common 
alike  to  "savage  and  to  sage."  It  is  doubtful  if  there 
be  a  race  of  mankind  so  low  as  to  be  without  a 
religion. 

Morality  recognizes  and  inculcates  the  rights  and 
duties  of  individuals  in  their  relation  to  their  social 
life.  It  is  above  religion,  and  its  possession  by  a 
peojile  is  indicative  of  great  strides  in  advance  of  the 
primitive  condition. 

The  Jewish  code,  the  ten  commandments,  mingled 
the  two  in  one  common  law,  and  the  embodiment  of 
these  into  two  simple  commandments  by  Christ  (him- 
self a  Jew)  nearly  nineteen  hundred  years  ago,  have 
forever,  to  all  Christian  people,  so  welded  together 
religion  and  morality  that  the  one  cannot  exist  with- 
out the  othei\ 

We  are  taught  in  childhood,  at  our  mother's  knee, 
that  certain  things  are  right,  others  wrong.  The 
morality  is  inculcated  with  the  religion,  and  we  with 
difficulty  separate  the  one  from  the  other. 

As  will  be  seen  further  on,  the  Indian  has  a  re- 
ligion, as  firmly  seated  in  his  belief  as  Christianity  in 
the  faith  of  the  Christian;  but  that  religion  has  no 
added  moral  code.  It  teaches  no  duty  or  obligation 
either  to  God  or  man. 

Right  and  wrong,  as  abstract  terms,  have  no  mean- 
ing whatever  to  the  Indian.    All  is  right  that  he 


■  «i 


»;|. 


/"  -v"j*r"'»^',j,  ^ 


<4'^  (      i^j-*  ^ 


•^'''^ 


^^■ 


€P 


mm 


h 
<> 


58 


NOT  A  STOIC. 


wishes  to  do,  all  is  wrong  that  opposes  him.  It  is 
simply  impossible  for  him  to  grasp  the  abstract  idea 
that  anything  is  wrong  in  itself.  He  has  no  word,  or 
set  of  words,  by  which  the  ideas  of  moral  right  and 
wrong  can  be  conveyed  to  him;  his  nearest  synonyms 
are  the  words  good  and  bad. 

He  will  tell  you  that  it  is  wrong  (bad)  to  steal 
from  a  man  of  his  own  band,  not  that  theft  is  wrong, 
but  because  he  will  be  beaten  and  kicked  out  of  the 
band  if  detected.  There  is  no  abstract  wrong  in  the 
murder  of  a  white  man,  or  Indian  of  another  tribe ; 
it  is  wrong  (bad)  simply  because  punishment  may 
follow. 

The  Indian  is  absolutely  without  what  we  call 
conscience,  that  inward  monitor  which  comes  of 
education,  but  which  our  religious  teachers  would 
persuade  us  is  the  voice  of  God. 

He  is  already  as  religious  as  the  most  devout 
Christian,  and  if  our  good  missionaries  would  let  him 
alone  in  his  religion,  cease  their  eiforts  to  proselyte 
him  to  their  particular  sect,  and  simply  strive  to 
supply  him  with  a  code  of  moi-als,  his  subsequent 
conversion  might  be  easy  and  his  future  improvement 
assured. 

In  his  manner  and  bearing,  the  Indian  is  habitually 
grave  and  dignified,  and  in  the  presence  of  strangers 
he  is  reserved  and  silent.  These  peculiarities  have 
been  ascribed  by  writers  on  Indian  character  to 
stoicism,  and  the  general  impression  seems  to  be  that 
the  Indian,  wrapped  in  his  blanket  and  impenetrable 
mystery,  and  with  a  face  of  gloom,  stalks  through 
life  unmindful  of  pleasure  or  pain.  Nothing  can  be 
farther  from  the  truth.  The  dignity,  the  reserve,  the 
silence,  are  put  on  just  as  a  I^ew  York  swell  puts  on 


"  i» 


1 


i'.i«>"r 


.-■i-- 


.ippf. 


■^■/^^ 


\  (i^vj-Vi^^K  •i%:y:^K'~'f->'TfT':':iv'  '■  ^ 


EXCESSIVE    CURIOSITY. 


59 


M» 


his  swallow-tailed  coat  and  white  choker  for  a  dinner- 
party, because  it  is  his  custom.  In  his  own  camp, 
away  from  strangers,  the  Indian  is  a  noisy,  jolly, 
rollicking,  mischief-loving  braggadocio,  brimful  of 
practical  jokes  and  rough  fun  of  any  kind,  making 
the  welkin  ring  with  his  laughter,  and  rousing  the 
midnight  echoes  by  song  and  dance,  whoops  and 
yells. 

He  is  really  as  excitable  as  a  Frenchman,  and  as 
fond  of  pleasure  as  a  Sybarite.  He  will  talk  himself 
wild  with  excitement,  vaunting  his  exploits  in  love, 
war,  or  the  chase,  and  will  commit  all  sorts  of  extrav- 
agances while  telling  or  listening  to  an  exciting 
story.  In  their  every-day  life  Indians  are  vivacious, 
chatty,  fond  of  telling  and  hearing  stories.  Their 
nights  are  sjjent  in  song  and  dance,  and  for  the 
number  of  persons  engaged,  a  permanent  Indian 
camp  (safe  from  all  danger  of  enemies)  is  at  night 
the  noisiest  place  that  can  be  found. 

One  of  the  strongest  traits  of  Indian  character  is 
curiosity,  a  positive  craving  to  know  all  that  is  going 
on  about  him.  He  must  know  the  meaning  of  eveiy 
mark  on  the  ground;  he  must  know  all  the  camp 
tattle.  A  stranger  arrives  in  the  village  and  goes 
into  a  lodge.  In  a  few  moments  half  the  inhabitants 
of  the  village  are  in  or  about  that  lodge  standing  on 
tiptoe,  straining  eyes  and  ears,  and  crowding  each 
other  and  the  stranger,  with  as  little  compunction  as 
if  the  whole  thing  were  a  ward  primary  meeting. 

"Whether  or  not  he  evinces  sui'prise  at  anything 
depends  on  his  surroundings,  and  somewhat  on  the 
nature  of  the  thing  itself.  In  a  formal  assemblage, 
or  when  in  the  presence  of  strangers,  it  would  be  the 
height   of  bad  manners   to  show  surprise,  however 


it     ■ 


■" 


li 


■»^  ■■A.if, 


^-^r^i'iSi  / 


■•■w.cr'y''€j 


^^.a 


^\ 


<^f 


M>-' 


I--     .■v*V  '. 


^tj:^: 


■m^ 


60 


SURPRISE. 


much  might  be  felt.  Uneducated  people  of  our  own 
race  feel  no  surprise  at  the  rising  and  setting  of  the 
sun,  the  changes  of  season,  the  flash  of  lightning  or 
the  roll  of  thunder.  They  accept  them  as  facts 
without  explanation,  and  though  beyond  their  com- 
prehension, without  surprise.  One  shows  surprise 
at  something  out  of  the  ordinary  range  of  his 
experience.     It  is  an  act  of  comparison. 

The  Indian  has  actual  and  common  experience  of 
many  articles  of  civilized  manufacture,  the  simplest 
of  which  is  as  entirely  beyond  his  comprehension  as 
the  most  complicated.  He  would  be  a  simple  excla- 
mation point,  did  he  show  surprise  at  everything  new 
to  him,  or  which  he  does  not  understand.  He  goes 
to  the  other  extreme,  and  rarely  shows,  because  he 
does  not  feel,  surprise  at  anything. 

He  visits  the  States,  looks  unmoved  at  the  steam- 
boat and  locomotive.  People  call  it  stoicism.  They 
forget  that  to  his  ignorance  the  production  of  the 
commonest  glass  bottle  is  as  inscrutable  as  the  sound 
of  the  thunder.  The  whirl  and  clatter  of  innumerable 
spindles  are  as  far  beyond  his  power  of  compre- 
hension as  that  the  summer's  heat  should  be  succeeded 
by  the  winter's  snows;  and  a  common  mirror  is  as 
perfect  a  miracle  as  the  bii'th  of  a  child  in  his  lodge. 
He  knows  nothing  of  the  comparative  difficulties 
of  invention  and  manufacture,  and  to  him,  the 
mechanism  of  a  locomotive  is  not  in  any  way  more 
a  cause  for  surprise  than  that  of  a  wheel-barrow. 

"When  things,  in  their  own  daily  experience,  are 
performed  in  what  to  them  is  a  remarkable  way,  they 
feel  and  express  the  most  profound  astonishment.  I 
have  seen  several  hundred  Indians  —  men,  women, 
and  children  —  eager  and  excited,  following*  from  one 


f 


' 


.f-^L-rY^Hii~-^  ':■  i'- 


^.>?*  ■ 


>«■  r.'"!^.-..if. 


"^■v';ii:v4'y: 


THE   WOODEN   LEG. 


Gl 


i 


telegraph  pole  to  another,  a  repairer  whose  legs  were 
encased  in  climbing-boots.  When  he  walked  easily, 
foot  over  foot,  up  the  pole,  their  surprise  and  delight 
found  vent  in  the  most  vociferous  expression  of 
applause  and  admiration. 


I  once  rode   into  a 


large 


Indian  villagre,  accom 


o*-' 


panied  by  a  beautiful  lady,  an  accomplished  horse- 
woman. The  horse,  not  liking  his  surroundings, 
brought  out,  by  his  plunges  and  curvetings,  all  her 
grace  and  skill.  Had  she  been  astride,  as  is  customary 
with  Indian  women,  no  notice  whatever  would  have 
been  taken  of  her,  but,  being  perched  on  a  side-saddle, 
in  what  to  the  Indian  was  an  almost  impossible 
position,  she  was  soon  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  all 
ages  and  sexes,  evincing  in  every  possible  way  their 
extremity  of  surprise  and  delight. 

Surprise  in  an  Indian  sometimes  takes  very  comical 
forms.  An  officer,  now  on  the  retired  list,  who  hav- 
ing lost  a  leg  in  service,  had  had  it  skilfully  replaced 
by  one  of  light  hollow  wood,  with  open  slits,  was  one 
day  visiting  the  lodge  of  a  distinguished  Sioux  chief 
(now  dead) .  After  some  rather  abortive  atte.  o i)ts  at 
conversation,  the  officer  took  a  knitting-needk  from 
the  hand  of  the  old  wife  of  the  chief,  and  p;^irsed  it 
through  his  leg.  This  at  once  attracted  the  notice  of 
all.  The  chief  made  signs  asking  to  see  the  leg. 
Stripping  up  his  pantaloons  the  officer  manns:ed  to 
show  the  artificial  limb,  but  concealing  its  connection 
with  the  leg  prof)er.  After  a  long  and  minute  exami- 
nation the  chief  asked  if  the  other  leg  was  the  same. 
The  amused  officer  could  not  resist  a  little  lie,  and 
nodded  yes,  whereupon  the  chief  took  him  by  the 
shoulders  and  thrust  him  out  of  the  lodge  as  "bad 
medicine." 


M 


/■"? 


*y.v;'     'yv  ^■•'<T  f."  ■'-'"" 


iit 


¥i 


62 


MANLY   VIRTUES. 


The  excitability  of  the  Indian  results  in  another 
peculiarity,  generally  overlooked  by  his  historians. 
Though  undoubtedly  brave,  and  performing  feats  and 
taking  chances  almost  incredible,  he  is,  when  sur- 
prised, more  easily  and  thoroughly  stampeded  than 
any  other  race  of  people  of  which  I  have  any  knowl- 
edge. 

The  Indian's  endurance  of  pain  and  suffering  of 
any  and  every  kind,  is  his  "patent  of  manhood." 
Custom  and  Indian  public  opinion  have  made  endur- 
ance the  exponent  of  every  manly  virtue;  and  he 
who  can  subject  himself,  without  a  look  or  expression 
of  pain,  to  the  greatest  amount  of  excruciating  tor- 
ture, is  the  best  man,  whatever  may  be  his  other 
qualities. 

Another  most  admirable  quality  he  possesses  in  an 
eminent  degree.  This  is  patience.  Endurance  and 
patience  would  seem  to  be  naturally  allied,  and  to  a 
close  observer  they  appear  to  be  the  warp  and  woof 
of  Indian  character.  Every  manly  quality  possessed 
by  the  Indian  is  the  outgrowth  of  one  or  the  other  of 
these  traits.  His  skill  and  success  as  warrior,  or  thief, 
or  hunter;  his  avoidance  of  quarrels  or  conflicts  with 
his  associates;  his  submission  to  wrongs,  outrages 
and  starvation,  all  come  from  his  endurance  and  his 
patience.  Even  his  disposition  to  torture  his  enemies 
is,  to  some  extent,  but  the  reflex  of  the  conscious 
pride  which  would  enable  him  to  bear  those  tortures 
without  flinching. 

Modesty,  as  we  understand  the  term,  is  totally 
lacking  in  the  Indian  character.  The  chief  or  warrior 
who  put  a  low  estimate  on  his  qualities  or  achieve- 
ments would  be  taken  at  his  word  and  nothing  thought 
of.     There  are  no  reporters,  no  newspapers,  to  herald 


* 


mam 


'<V.' 


..{-."'r-i.T  1  --i^tj;'" 


ir 


MODESTY. 


68 


the  praises  of  a  skilful  warrior.  He  must  blow  his 
own  trumpet,  and  he  docs  it  with  magnificent 
success.  Self-praise  is  no  disgrace  to  him,  and 
half  tliC  talk  of  warriors  to  each  other  is  made  up 
of  exaggerated  boasts  of  what  they  have  done,  and 
most  extraordinary  assertions  as  to  what  they  intend 
to  do. 

The  ordinary  conversations,  at  home  or  in  company, 
are  broad  even  to  indecency.  In  some  of  the  tribes 
the  women  are  retiring  and  modest  in  manners,  be- 
cause custom  requires  it,  but  they  listen  with  delight 
to  the  story-teller's  most  filthy  recitals,  and  receive 
with  great  applause  indecent  jests  and  proposals  in 
the  sign-dance. 

Clothing  is  for  ornament,  not  for  decency.  Ordi- 
narily, even  among  the  wildest  tribes,  men  and  women 
wear  some  covering  (very  frequently  the  men  only 
the  breech-clout),  but  I  have  seen' entirely  naked  men 
stalking  about  a  village,  or  joining  in  a  dance,  with- 
out exciting  surprise,  comment,  or  objection  from 
others.  Although  most  gayly  bedecked  on  occasions 
of  ceremony,  the  ordinary  covering  of  the  male  Indian 
is  not  what  would  be  regarded  as  decent  among  civil- 
ized people.  The  women  are  more  decently  clothed 
habitually,  but  men  and  women,  even  young  girls, 
think  nothing  of  bathing  together  in  "  puris  naturali- 
bus,"  and  it  is  not  at  all  unusual  to  see  boys  and  girls, 
even  up  to  ten  years  of  age,  running  around  the  camp 
in  the  same  condition. 

There  is  a  curious  difference  of  opinion  among 
writers  as  to  the  honesty  of  the  Indian,  some  assert- 
ing that  he  is  an  arrant  thief,  others  insisting  that  he 
is  exceptionally  honest.  Catlin  says  that  the  Indian 
is  "  honest  and  honorable,"  and  that  he  "  never  stole 


"n- 


^:;^ 


}■*  ^ 


M 


f^ 


vl^ 


^^ 


64 


THE   UNPARDONABLE   CRIME. 


a  shilling's  worthy  of  property  "  from  him.     The  fact 
is,  that  all  these  authors  are  both  right  and  wrong. 

In  their  own  bands,  Indians  are  perfectly  honest. 
In  all  my  intercourse  with  them,  I  have  heard  of  not 
over  half  a  dozen  cases  of  such  theft.  It  is  the  sole 
unpardonable  crime  among  Indians.  There  being  no 
bolts  nor  bars,  no  locks  nor  safes,  and  each  Indian 
having  by  common  custom  the  right  to  enter  into  any 
lodge  of  the  band,  at  any  and  at  all  hours,  the  prop- 
erty of  no  one  would  be  safe  foi-  a  moment  but  for 
the  most  rigid  infliction  of  the  severest  punishments 
on  the  perpetrator  of  this  solitaiy  Indian  crime. 

The  value  of  the  article  stolen  is  not  considered. 
The  crime  is  the  theft.  A  man  found  guilty  of  steal- 
ing even  the  most  trifling  article  from  a  member 
of  his  own  band,  is  whipped  almost  to  death  (every 
individual  of  the  band  having  the  disposition,  as  well 
as  the  right,  to  take  part  in  the  amusement,  and  there 
being  no  limit,  except  his  own  ♦vill,  to  the  amount  of 
punishment  inflicted  by  each),  his  horses  are  confis- 
cated, his  lodge,  robes,  blankets,  and  other  property 
destroyed  or  divided  among  the  band,  and,  naked  and 
disgraced,  he  is,  with  his  wives  and  children,  uncere- 
moniously kicked  out  of  the  band,  to  starve,  or  live 
as  best  they  can.  A  woman  caught  stealing  is  beaten 
and  kicked  out  of  the  band,  but  her  husband  and 
children  are  not  included  in  the  punishment. 

Children  detected  in  thefts  are  thrashed  most  un- 
mercifully, not  only  by  the  person  from  whom  they 
stole,  but  by  the  father,  who  is  also  obliged  to  pay 
damages. 

But  this  wonderfully  exceptional  honesty  extends 
no  further  than  to  the  members  of  his  immediate 
band.    To  all  outside  of  it,  the  Indian  is  not  only  one 


*i\*r^'-  if 


<iT*7  '•'■'^;;"7'f"*>  T"^. ' 


DISLOYAL    GUESTS. 


65 


. 


of  the  most  anrnt  thieves  in  the  world,  but  this 
qiuUity  or  faculty  is  held  in  the  highest  estimation, 
the  expert  thief  standing  in  honor,  and  in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  tribe  almost,  if  not  quite,  on  the  same 
plane  as  the  brave  and  skilful  warrior. 

The  earliest  lessons  of  the  youthful  brave  are  in 
stealing.  The  love-sick  youngster  can  only  be  sure 
of  winning  his  mistress  by  stealing  enough  horses  to 
pay  for  her.  Indians  are  not  very  successful  breeders 
of  horses,  and  every  man  of  the  tribe  expects  to  keep 
himself  in  stock  by  stealing. 

Even  different  bands  of  the  same  tribe  (when  not 
in  one  general  encampment)  do  not  hesitate  to  steal 
from  each  other.  A  most  flagrant  case  came  under 
my  personal  observation.  In  the  winter  of  1807-8, 
I  was  stationed  at  North  Platte,  Nebraska,  in  charge 
of  Spotted  Tail's  band  of  Brule  Sioux.  A  party  of 
six  Minneconjou  Sioux  came  into  Spotted  Tail's  camp 
on  a  visit.  They  were  stalwart,  good-looking  young- 
sters, beautifully  dressed,  well  armed  and  mounted, 
and  claimed  to  have  been  in  the  Phil.  Kearny  mas- 
sacre of  the  year  before.  They  were  received  as 
most  distinguished  guests,  with  all  hospitality  and 
honor.  Feasted  and  honored  by  day,  danced  with, 
ogled  and  made  love  to  at  night,  the  happy  visit- 
ors, fascinated  with  their  surroundings,  ai:)parently 
thought  only  of  pleasure;  but  early  on  the  morning 
of  the  fourth  or  fifth  day  after  their  arrival,  I  was 
waked  up  by  an  Indian  who  informed  me  that  the 
Minneconjous  had  gotten  away  in  the  night  with 
over  one  hundred  of  their  entertainers'  ponies.  A 
war  party  was  promptly  organized  for  pursuit,  but 
returned  unsuccessful,  after  running  the  fugitives  for 
over  a  hundred  miles. 


..I 


■m 


,yJiii'.-j:,/i/'if!-.ti-: 


'A  'Uii 


^w- . 


M 


% 


m 


■.j^iT^T' .;■■"»; 


t-.^':jKii 


66 


WILD   INDIANS. 


The  Indian,  as  a  rule,  is  honorable  after  a  fashion 
of  his  own.  Hide  anything  from  him  and  he  will 
find  and  steal  it.  Place  it  formally  in  his  possession, 
or  nnde-  his  charge  for  safe  keeping,  and  it  will  in 
all  probability  be  returned  intact,  with,  however,  a 
demand  for  a  present  as  vrward  for  his  honesty. 

I  apply  the  term  "  wild  "  to  a  class  of  Indians  to 
distinguish  it  from  another  class  inhabiting  the  In- 
dian Territory,  or  living  within  the  boundaries  of 
some  of  the  States,  and  'vhich  'las  made  some  prog- 
ress in  civilization  and  morai  knowledge.  With 
these  exceptions,  the  vast  numbers  of  Indians  in  the 
territory  of  the  United  States  are  "wild."  Sioux, 
Cheyennes,  Arrapahoes,  Comanches,  Apaches,  Utes, 
Shoshones,  Chippewas,  and  the  almost  numberless 
small  tribes  and  fragments  scattered  through  the 
vast  region  west  of  the  Mississippi,  or  collected  at 
agencies,  or  on  reservations,  all  furnish  material  and 
shading  for  the  pict'irc  I  give  of  them.  Here  and 
there  a  small  tribe—  as  the  Xez  Perces  —  show  a 
flight  advance  in  morality,  due  to  the  efforts  of  Ro- 
man Catholic  priests  so  many  years  ago  that  their 
traditions  but  vaguely  fix  the  time.  Here  and  there, 
also,  even  among  the  wild  tribes,  are  found  men  who 
give  some  evidence  of  moral  p'rception,  probably'' 
due  to  the  influence  of  missionaries  and  teachers. 
These  cases  are,  however,  individual.  The  mass  of 
the  wild  tribes  ire  as  depicted. 

A  large  class  of  most  excellent  people  -rif^cien- 
tiously  believe  that  the  Indian  is  a  supernaLUj .  1  hero, 
with  a  thousand  excellent  qualities,  so  admirably 
woven  and  dove-tailed  into  his  nature  that  even  civ- 
ilization and  Christianity  could  not  improve  him.  To 
such  persons  I  have  nothing  to  say.    Their  opinions 


mmmmmm 


vs  V>»■^rt^^,>JV'■•v.^^-;:■.Ti;J^■;>;,^r.T.^.v,-^.^-;r.;J:|.;r,j^^R.;^;. -ri^  vi'^^ 


CAPACITY  FOR  IMPROVEMENT. 


67 


are  simply  sentimental  prejudice,  without  foundation 
in  knowledge  or  reason,  and  could  not  be  changed, 
"  though  one  rose  from  the  dead." 

There  is  another  class  of  excellent  people  who 
firmly  believe  that  it  is  impossible  to  civilize  the 
Indian,  and  who  argue  that  humanity  an  1  policy 
alike  point  to  his  extermination  as  the  most  prompt 
and  effectual  way  of  solving  our  Indian  problem. 
These  arc  also  wrong.  The  Indian  has  never  had  a 
fair  chance,  and  he  is  entitled  to  a  full  and  fair  trial. 
That,  with  his  miserable  opportunities,  he  has  been 
at  least  partially  civilized,  as  shown  by  the  exceptions 
before  noted,  and  by  the  condition  of  the  more 
advanced  of  the  Cherokees,  is  ample  evidence  of 
capacity  for  a  further  improvement. 


"*./= 


4- 


^^7 


■  "y I. ■-"'■'■■■  ,■■ '^i.'^^'t^  W'l'^■''^'*^*'^'''*'' 


h 


..:f 


•^ 


^^.h 


SAr.-V 


m  ■ 


m 


CHAPTER  IV. 

INDIAN  CHIEFS   AND  RULERS  —  TRIBAL  CiOVERNMENT 
—  now   PLACE   AND   POWER   ARE   WON. 

Powers  of  the  Iloiul  Chief—  The  Avengors  of  Blood  —  The  Deatli  Penalty 
—  Deadly  Hostility  —  Sitting  Bull's  Indomitable  Band — Ouray's  Lost 
Prestijre—  Little  Robe  and  Little  Raven  —  Two  Tribes  that  are  Firm 
Friends  —  Disoboyins:  Spotted  Tail's  Orders  —  Fate  of  Desertin? 
Warriors  —  Severe  Punishment  —  A  Secret  Society  —  Tiie  "Picked 
Corps  ■'  of  Warriors  —  The  Chiefs  Body  Guard  —  Expiating  a  Sin  — 
A  Noted  Comanche  Chief.  His  Courage;  and  Daring  —  Death  from  a 
Broken  Ileai-t  —  Red  Cloud's  Career — War  to  the  Knife  —  A  Thril- 
ling Episode  —  Rival  Suitors  —  Spotted  Tail's  Duel  —  Locked  in 
Death's  Embrace  —  Big  Mouth's  Assasination. 

[  HE  government  of  the  Indian  tribes  in 
[?<^    their   natural    condition   was   a  com- 
pound  of  absolutism,   oligarchy,  and 
democracy. 

The   absolutism  natui'al  and  usual 
among    them    may   be    designated    a 
patriarchal  despotism. 
_  Fifty  years  ago,  the  head  chief  of 

^  each  tribe  was  a  despot,  with  absolute  and 
unquestioned  power  over  the  life  and  projierty  of 
each  jjid  ^vcvy  individual  of  his  tribe.  Each  petty 
chief  wa'  in  like  jiinnner  the  despot  of  his  band,  and 
each  iiL'ud  of  a  family  of  the  members  of  that 
family. 

This  absolutism  was  subject  to  some  curious  modi- 
fications, all  growing  out  ui'  the  universal  recognition 
of  the  law  of  retaliation,  and  of  the  right  of  property 

68 


MMP 


UMP"""^ 


^'^^jC^W^^ffif^^vJ^^j.^p,;'  ..,•  , 


LEX   TALIONIS. 


t^ 


in  women.  Any  man,  chief  or  commoner,  of  the 
tribe  might  kill  his  own  wife  with  impunity;  she 
belonged  to  him.  He  might  kill  the  wife  of  another 
man,  and  get  off  by  paying  her  value  in  ponies.  If 
he  killed  the  man  himself,  he  was  subject  to  no  pun- 
ishment, or  danger  of  it  from  his  superiors  in  author- 
ity, but  he  at  once  incurred  the  penalty  of  death  by 
the  hands  of  the  relatives  of  the  dead  man,  any  one 
of  whom  was  justified  in  waylaying  and  shooting 
him  like  a  dog.  In  the  same  band  this  blood-feud 
might  or  might  not  end  with  the  death  of  the  first 
slayer,  but  in  different  tribes,  and  frequently  in  dif- 
ferent bands  of  the  same  tribe,  each  death  involved 
the  necessity  of  another.  This  accounts,  in  a  great 
measure,  for  the  deadly  hostility  of  Indian  tribes  to 
each  other. 

A  chief,  or  sub-chief,  might  with  impimity  beat  or 
destroy  the  property  of  any  one  under  his  authority, 
but  if  he  killed  him  with  his  own  hand  he  inciu'red 
the  inevitable  lex  talionis,  which,  however,  he  might 
evade  by  paying  a  number  of  ponies  to  the  relatives 
of  the  dead  man. 

This  is  the  almost  universal  custom  even  at  the 
present  day,  and  though  the  last  few  years  have  wit- 
nessed extraordinary  changes  in  the  character  of  the 
internal  government  of  the  tril)es,  these  have  ])een 
principally  in  the  influence  and  control  of  the  chiefs, 
and  in  the  power  of  the  "dog-soldiers." 

Fifty  years  ago  the  ofiice  of  chiof  wns  hereditary, 

a  son,  though  not  necessarily  the  eldest,  succeeding. 

Indian  tradition  sa3^s  that,  as  the  father  grew  old,  he 

took  more  and  more  into  his  coiuicils  and  plans  that 

son  who,  in  intellect  and  manly  qualities,  was  beet 

fitted  to  succeed  him;  gradually  yielding,  until  the 

6 


■fV 


;0f^P'^^'^^''f-f''^.A.tv'.':f-'  i'.i,  ''■'iwi-'i  J^W' 


70 


THE   DIVINE   KIGHT. 


fti 


m 


active  exercise  of  power  was  almost  entirely  in  the 
hands  of  the  son,  but  liable  to  be  withdrawn  at  any 
moment.  This,  in  most  of  the  tribes,  has  been 
changed  entirely. 

It  was  fitting  that  the  United  States  government, 

which   had   freed  itself  from  hereditary   monarchy, 

should  strike  the  first  blow  to  free  the  Indian  from 

hereditary  despotism.      In   many   instances   unruly 

chiefs   have   been    dej^osed    by   the    United    States 

authorities,  and  others  exalted  to  their  places;   the 

subjects  themselves  having  no  voice  in  tlie  matter. 

This  could  only  have  been  done,  at  first,  by  taking 

advantage  of  the  ambition   of  the  sub-chiefs,  each 

probably  an  aspiring  man,  envious  of  his  suj^erior, 

and  jealous  of  his  equals. 

It  must  have  been  a  great  shock  to  the  Indian 
nature,  for  the  despotic  idea  runs  through  all  their 
tribal  and  family  relations;  but  they  very  soon  caught 
at  the  advantages  suggested  by  this  new  and  im- 
proved process  of  making  a  ruler. 

Each  chief  of  a  band,  or  subdivision  of  the  tribe, 
no  longer  overawed  by  the  "Divine  Right"  of  a 
hereditary  ruler,  immediately  set  up  for  himself. 
Previous  to  this  the  head  chief  was  always  the  first 
man  of  the  tribe ;  after  this  it  was  a  mere  matter  of 
accident,  or  good  management,  whether  he  was  so 
or  not. 

The  pi'cfcrencc  of  the  Indians  for  a  dynastic  ruler 
led  to  the  necessity  for  a  war  chief,  a  raiik  common 
to  all  tribes. 

The  hereditary  chief  was  always  recognized,  rever- 
enced, and  obeyed,  as  sovereign  ruler  (even  though 
his  age  or  temperament  unfitted  him  lor  duties  in 
the  field.)     If  the  acknowledged  fii-st  warrior  of  the 


*•? 


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i^l 

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:  Hi  " 

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ill 

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^•j :  ■ 


OllABATlONS  OF  KANK. 


78 


tribe,  the  hereditary  chief  was  also  the  war  chief,  but 
if  not,  a  war  chief  was  elected  by  the  council.  As  his 
function  was  only  to  lead  in  war,  the  man  of  the  tribe 
(chief  or  warrior)  most  renowned  for  his  skill  and 
ferocity  was  generally  selected. 

In  times  of  peace  he  might  be  little  thought  of; 
indeed  was  oftentimes  only  hated  and  feared,  and  his 
influence  in  the  council  might  be  of  the  smallest ;  but 
in  times  of  war  he  became  a  power,  and  his  word  was 
law,  to  which  even  the  hereditary  chief  might  have 
to  submit.  In  some  of  the  tribes  the  war  chief  and 
the  medicine  chief  are  one  and  the  same  person. 

There  are  no  gradations  of  rank  among  the  sub- 
chiefs  who  have  charge  of  bands.  All  are  equal  as 
chiefs,  and  the  greater  or  less  power  of  each  comes 
from  his  own  standing  in  the  tribe,  the  amount  of 
influence  he  can  bring  to  bear,  either  through  his 
eloquence  or  his  reputation  as  a  warrior. 

The  sons  of  chiefs  and  sub-chiefs  have  a  certain 
subordinate  rank,  and  are  regarded  as  chiefs,  even 
though  they  have  no  following. 

For  some  years  there  has  been  a  struggle  between 
the  head  cliief,  on  one  hand,  and  the  insubordinate 
sub-chiefs  on  the  other,  resulting  in  many  dramatic 
situations. 

The  actual  condition,  at  the  present  moment,  of 
each  tribe,  with  respect  to  its  rulers,  is  a  pretty  fair 
criterion,  not  indeed  of  advance  towards  civilization, 
but  of  departure  from  customary  and  long-estab- 
lished ideas.  It  is  more  difficult  to  unlearn  than  to 
learn,  and  for  this  reason,  if  for  no  other,  this  depart- 
ure is  something  gained  for  the  Indian. 

Sitting  Bull  and  the  indomitable  bands  which,  with 
him,  preferred  to  exile  themselves  to  an  inhospitable 


:*>, 


■■-? 
i 


>^-> 


I 


\\' 


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1? 


1^ 


W'V. 


■■ytf'i': 


!,?*  ;f-^'  ■V.vUi'J'V; 


74 


CHANGE   OF  AliLEGIANCE. 


and  starving  land,  rather  than  tamely  submit  to  be 
starved  on  a  reservation,  yet  enjoy  to  the  lull  all  the 
unmixed  blessings  of  despotism;  and  there  may  be 
a  few  small  bands,  or  fragments  of  tribes,  in  the 
United  States,  who  are  similarly  situated. 

^N^ext  come  a  class  of  tribes  as  the  Utes,  who,  while 
yet  acknowledging  a  head  chief,  are  not  disposed 
to  yield  obedience  to  his  awcry  command. 

This,  as  Ouray  found,  is  not  a  pleasant  condition 
of  affairs,  for  while  the  government  demands  of  him 
as  head  chief,  certain  things,  he  finds  his  prestige  as 
head  chief  so  far  gone  that  he  has  little  i)ower,  even 
had  he  the  will,  to  comply  with  the  demands. 

In  the  very  large  majority  of  tribes,  at  the  present 
time,  the  head  chief  is  but  a  name,  the  ti-ibes  being 
broken  into  small  bands,  each  owing  allegiance  only 
to  the  chief  it  follows. 

Little  Robe,  head  chief  of  the  Cheyennes,  and 
Little  Kavcn,  head  chief  of  the  An-apahoes,  were  a 
few  years  ago  all  powerful,  each  in  his  own  tribe. 
Now,  each  is  leader  and  chief  of  a  small  band,  and 
neither  has  much  standing  or  influence. 

The  destruction  of  the  power  of  the  head  chiefs 
has  resulted  wondcjrfully  well  for  the  private  subjects 
of  the  tribes.  Forinei-ly  each  sul)-chief  kept  his 
band  as  much  as  possible  away  fi-om  others,  and  ruled 
with  absolute  sway.  A  change  of  allegiance  li'om 
one  sub-chief  to  another  was  always  attended  with 
great  danger  of  loss  of  property  or  life,  possibly  of 
both.  The  rule  was  that  if  detected  in  an  attempt  to 
change  his  allegiance,  he  might  be  sti'ipped  of  his 
property,  whipped,  or  even  put  to  death;  but  if  he 
succeeded  in  making  the  change  he  was  thereafter 
abs9lved  from  blame  and  secure  from  punishment. 


\j(^>rL..^::>-i:?,i.::,..J^'^:- 


:t'i\-lK.-''\y^^.^^. 


■,?T>yv;i,T-' 


TERRIBLE   PUNISHMENT. 


75 


In  1867,  the  Chcyennes  were  waging  bitter  war 
against  the  United  States.  This  tribe  and  the  Sionx 
are  very  warm  friends,  and  a  portion  of  the  Brnle 
band  of  Sioux  were  anxious  to  join  them.  Spotted 
Tail,  at  that  time,  head  chief  of  the  Brules,  did  all  in 
his  power  to  prevent  this.  In  spite,  however,  of  his 
influence,  his  power,  and  his  most  peremptory  orders, 
it  was  one  morning  discovered  that  twenty  or  more 
lodges  of  the  malcontents  had  decamped  during  the 
night.  Assembling  his  "dog-soldiers,"  Spotted  Tail 
pursued  the  fugitives,  overtook  and  captured  them. 

Every  desei'ting  warrior  and  many  of  the  women 
were  terribly  whipped,  their  horses  were  killed,  their 
arms  broken  or  confiscated,  all  the  lodges,  robes, 
clothing  and  pi'opcrty  of  every  kind  ruthlessly 
destroyed,  and  the  miserable  band  driven  back  to 
cam]),  naked  beggars,  powerless  for  evil. 

While,  under  Indian  ruling,  this  was  a  perfectly 
just  and  pi'oper  thing  to  do,  the  deserters  would  have 
been  free  from  blame,  and  in  no  pi'esent  or  future 
danger  from  Spotted  Tail,  had  they  succeeded  in 
reaching  the  Cheyenne  camp. 

This  is  an  exceptional  instance,  and  the  severity  of 
the  punishment  was  justified  by  the  magnitude  of  the 
interests  involved.  Tlie  attempted  desertion  was  to 
a  different  tribe,  and  with  the  intention  of  taking 
part  in  a  war  against  the  United  States.  Such  action 
was  likely  to  comi)romise  the  whole  Brule  band,  and 
possibly  involve  it  in  the  war. 

The  collection  of  Indians  on  reservations  and  in  the 
vicinity  of  agencies,  so  very  greatly  facilitated  the  op- 
portunities for  change  of  allegiance,  that  the  chiefs 
soon  found  they  must  depend  on  some  persuasive  other 
than  force,  if  they  wished  to  retain  their  power, 


4>Vf  Jv^3 


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y 


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76 


THE   COUNCIL. 


^^ft 


Thereupon  resulted  an  "era  of  good  feeling."  The 
chief,  heretofore  so  stern  and  relentless,  beeame  as 
suave  as  a  cross-roads  politician,  and  sought  to  keep 
up  his  power  and  strength  by  very  similar  means. 
The  result  is,  that  individual  ludians  and  iamilies  do 
just  as  they  please.  If  they  dislike  one  chief  they 
go  to  another.  Indians  are  born  lovers  of  aristocracy 
and  stick  to  their  chiefs  as  long  as  possible,  but  a 
specially  shrewd  and  popular  man,  or  brave  and 
successful  warrior,  may  now  secure  to  himself  a 
following  even  though  he  were  born  "one  of  the 
common  herd." 

The  Council  was  and  is  a  prominent  feature,  the 
oligarchical  element  in  tribal  government. 

The  chief  has  control  in  matters  of  discipline,  or 
what  might  be  regarded  as  the  details  of  administra- 
tion, but  everything  of  importance,  every  proposition 
or  measure  bearing  on  the  general  good  or  ill,  must 
be  discussed  in  council. 

Spouting  must  be  a  purely  American  characteristic. 
As  among  our  highly  civilized  American  citizens 
nothing,  however  ti'ivial,  can  be  done  without  a  pre- 
liminary letting  off  a  vast  amount  of  verbiage;  so 
the  Indian  can  never  do  anything  without  speech- 
making. 

When  a  camp  is  to  be  moved,  a  hunt  made,  a 
medicine-dance  proposed ;  when  youths  arc  to  be 
initiated  as  warriors,  or  peace  or  war  discussed; 
whether  in  the  spring,  laying  their  plans  for  summer 
before  leaving  the  agency,  or  in  the  fall,  returning  to 
it  to  loaf,  dance  and  gamble  the  winter  away,  there 
must  ahvays  first  be  a  council  more  dignified,  and 
almost  as  loquacious  as  our  supreme  council  in  the 
year  of  a  presidential  election. 


-.MIML.': 


•u-i  , 


I  ig'ii-ii'yliLi'iiiXi^'ii.'A 


'V;aJ>*v  .<-M!a»,ii>:^fit'i:Aui'4 /St(-f  5fi«!' '>-'V 


;j) 


THE   DOG-SOLDIERS. 


77 


A  council  lodge  is  provided  for  every  band,  and  the 
council  is  summoned  to  meet  on  any  and  every  occa- 
sion. All  warriors  are  ex  officio  members  of  the 
council.  Each  may  speak,  but,  as  in  civilized  councils, 
a  comparatively  few  individuals  do  most  of  the  talk- 
ing. The  conclusion  is  arrived  at  by  acclamation. 
The  old  men  arc  swayed  by  reason  and  eloquence, 
the  younger  by  passion  and  the  personal  popularity 
of  the  speaker  or  his  subject,  but  though  these  latter 
arc  usually  in  the  numerical  ascendancy  and  might 
have  their  own  way,  they  generally  acquiesce  in  the 
decision  of  the  chiefs,  sages,  and  medicine  men. 

Besides  the  chiefs  and  council  there  is  in  the 
government  of  each  Indian  band  a  "  third  estate,"  to 
which  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  its  rights  and  duties 
all  have  to  submit.  This  power  consists  of  the  men 
of  the  band  who  have  passed  the  ordeal  as  war- 
riors, and  are  yet  not  old  enough  to  be  exempt  from 
active  service.  It  is  the  mobilized  militia  of  the  band. 
It  is  a  sort  of  "  guild,"  has  its  secret  meetings,  its 
councils,  and  decides  many  questions  without  consult- 
ing chiefs  or  council.  They  are  the  soldiers  of  the 
band,  and  are  generally  called  "  dog-soldiers,"  from 
the  fact,  I  presume,  that  among  the  Cheyennes  or  Dog 
Indians,  they  are  at  their  greatest  perfection.  All 
chiefs  in  their  youth  are  obliged  to  serve  in  the  ranks 
of  the  dog-soldiers,  not  necessarily  in  command,  for 
these  redoubtable  warriors  will  not  permit  even  the 
chief  to  name  their  leader.  They  elect  him  themselves 
from  among  the  most  sagacious  and  popular  hunters. 
In  "old  times"  the  powers  and  duties  of  the  dog- 
soldiers  were  far  greater  than  now.  Then  the  women 
and  children,  horses,  lodges,  and  property  of  every 
kind  were  under  their  protection.     They  regulated 


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78 


FIRST  STEP  TOWARD   CIVILIZATION. 


the  marches  in  all  movements  of  the  village,  selected 
the  camping-plcices,  furnished  guards  for  the  camp 
and  animals.  They  planned  all  hunts,  directed  all  sur- 
rounds, and  distributed  the  game.  The  widows  and 
orphans  of  the  tribe  were  under  their  special  charge, 
and  were  by  them  provided  with  food  and  other 
necessaries  of  life.  They  were  at  once  the  police 
force  ai.d  commissariat  of  the  tribe.  Then  they  were 
constantly  occupied,  now  they  have  little  to  do. 

Singular  as  it  may  seem,  the  diminution  of  the 
power  of  the  chiefs,  instead  of  increasing,  as  might 
naturally  have  been  expected,  the  power  of  the  dog- 
soldiers,  has  very  greatly  diminished  it.  This  I  attrib- 
ute to  the  greatly  reduced  number  of  lodges  in  the 
bands.  Formerly  a  sub-chief  of  influence  controlled 
fifty  to  one  hundred  lodges;  now  it  is  difficult  to  find 
a  chief  who  can  control  more  than  ten  or  twenty, 
sometimes  only  half  a  dozen. 

Instead  of  a  hundred  or  more  young  and  energetic 
dog-soldiers,  a  band  will  have  sometimes  but  six  or 
eight.  Their  loss  in  numbers  has  resulted  in  more 
than  proportionate  loss  of  power,  and  instead  of  elect- 
ing a  leader,  they  are  now,  in  what  I  regard  as  the 
most  advanced  tribes,  directly  under  the  control  of 
the  chief,  to  whom  they  are  a  body-guard  and  little 
standing  army. 

The  present  tendency  is  towards  a  complete  break- 
ing down  of  the  central  despotic  power  in  each  tribe, 
under  which  large  bands  were  kept  together,  and  the 
result  is  to  the  advantage  of  the  individual  Indian  as 
Well  as  to  the  United  States  Government.  It  is  the 
very  first  step  towards  civilization. 

Tribal  government,  heretofore  a  sort  of  democratic 
despotism,  is  daily  becoming  more  and  more  simple 


'.Ij";  •",  "viM**^*?!^!  rj5«f' 


A 


TT 


ti'tir.'Rii^'a^'  i'fi 


■  \    i 


T 


EXPIATION. 


79 


and  patriarchal.  A  very  small  cxpenditnre  of  wisdom 
on  the  part  of  the  United  States  authorities  and  law- 
makers, would  soon  settle  quietly  and  haj^pily  the 
whole  question;  but  unfortunately  it  is  not  to  the 
interests  of  many  influential  people  that  it  should 
be  settled. 

Of  course,  having  no  writing,  there  is  no  written 
law  among  Indians,  nor  indeed  is  there  anything  like 
an  oral  code.  There  is  no  crime  worthy,  in  their 
opinion,  of  very  severe  punishnien':.  In  the  "  olden 
days,"  change  of  allegiance  was  regarded  as  the 
gravest  of  crimes,  and  punished  as  treason.  Now 
there  is  no  crime  against  the  "body  politic."  Viola- 
tions of  the  orders  of  the  chief  are  punished  severely, 
by  whipping  and  destruction  of  property.  Crimes 
against  individuals,  as  assaults,  or  stealirg  his  neigh- 
bor's wife,  are  compounded  by  the  payment  of  dam- 
ages, the  amount  of  v/hich  is  assessed  by  the  chief, 
assisted  by  two  or  more  prominent  men.  A  theft 
from  an  individual  of  another  band  is  no  crime.  A 
theft  from  one  of  the  same  band  is  the  greatest 
of  all  crimes.  Assaults  and  injuries  to  one  member 
of  a  family  by  another  are  religious  wrongs  to  be 
repented  of. 

]N^ot  long  ago  a  Cheyenne  woman  in  a  fit  of  passion 
stabbed  her  grown  daughter.  Ko  notice  whatever 
was  taken  of  the  act  by  chief  or  council,  but  the 
mother  immediately  retired  to  the  top  of  a  hill  some 
distance  off,  and  remained  there  for  four  or  five  days, 
without  shelter,  bedding,  food  or  drink,  when  the 
other  members  of  the  family,  thinking  she  had  suf- 
ficiently atoned,  brought  her  back  to  the  lodge  and 
to  life. 

In   1879,  when  seeking  for  building  material,  I 


;,tiV  ,•.*..■  J 


l.si>.fc^  rA!fc:.>irj!d.i..:,....T,<,-.'S;i!ls  .UlJ.'.ijiiri..*    ■«Ji^.2*'..iiiii-v.Si'..'V  i!  i-.iSi' wiiV. 


K yv*^' ''i'^T'^'^St-  ■'';'''^?9J%t^  V^j'T 5;'>'j;' w-;;  ■■"Ir - ■   : 


80 


INTERRUPTED   ATONEMENT. 


Wi  ! 


went  to  examine  a  high,  rocky  hill.  On  reaching 
the  summit,  I  saw  a  short  distance  from  me,  a  small 
mound  or  cairn  of  stones.  At  its  foot  was  spread  a 
blanket  on  which  was  lying,  face  downward,  an 
Indian,  entirely  naked.  He  did  not  move  or  notice 
me  until  I  had  almost  made  the  circuit  of  the  flat  top 
of  the  hill,  when  he  arose  and  rushed  towards  my 
party,  with  extravagant  gestures  and  vociferous 
exclamation,  ordering  us  off.  We  of  course  paid  no 
attention  to  him.  When  we  had  completed  the 
circuit  of  the  hill,  he  wrapped  himself  in  his  blanket 
and  sat  down  on  a  rock,  looking  moody  and  dis- 
consolate enough.  When  we  had  finished  our 
examination  we  returned  to  oiu*  wagon  at  the  bottom 
of  the  hill,  spread  our  lunch  on  the  rocks  and  prepared 
to  enjoy  ourselves.  The  sight  was  too  much  for  the 
Indian,  who  slowly  came  down  and  sat  near  us.  He 
was  evidently  very  unhappy.  Two  or  three  pounds 
of  corned  beef,  half  a  loaf  of  bread,  and  a  canteen  of 
cold  coffee  quickly  disappeared,  and  under  its  influence 
he  thawed  out  sufllciently  to  inform  us  that  he  was 
expiating  a  sin,  that  at  sundown  on  that  afternoon  he 
would  have  completed  bis  third  day  without  food  or 
drink,  and  his  penance  would  have  been  over;  that,  in 
going  around  him,  we  had  destroyed  the  whole  effect 
of  his  medicine,  rendered  all  his  sufferings  nugatory, 
and  all  would  have  to  be  gone  through  with  again. 
He  would  not  tell  me  what  crime  he  had  committed, 
but  from  subsequent  inquiry,  I  suspect  it  was  striking 
his  father. 

About  three  years  ago  a  Cheyenne  woman,  having 
become  for  some  reason  greatly  exasperated  with  her 
husband,  murdered  him  with  an  axe  while  asleep. 
About  a  month  after  she  gave  birth  to  a  child,  which, 


JL 


ks-  ''?-^ 


mmmmmmm^ 


iFiiii<iiiil7i!»iit> 


iV-',t¥'.",'r;' .'^  'r-'-j^ii-p-fV  Vvr-T;?w-.-u>^4'i;->?'  • 


•^Ji'-y?*':"."'"'.-,';  v\;A'-.rji-'^->i»>.Vi<-;  ■^.' '  »■•.'/•',  i^i^" 


1-5*  ?ir-''r^?'.'v^j?.^ 


BAN-TA-NA. 


81 


A 


as  soon  as  it  was  born,  she  threw  as  far  as  possible 
into  a  thicket,  saying  she  would  "have  nothing  to  do 
with  anything  belonging  to  that  dead  man."  No 
notice  whatever  was  taken  of  either  of  these  crimes, 
and  the  woman  is  still  a  member  in  "good  standing" 
of  the  band. 

Her  acts  did  not,  to  her,  seem  to  require  even  a 
religious  penance,  and  her  only  punishmeijt  has  been 
her  inability  to  get  another  husband,  the  bucks  wisely 
steering  clear  of  a  woman  of  such  vigorous  action. 

The  child  was  picked  up  by  one  of  tho  old  women, 
and  being  nursed  in  turn  by  the  mothers  of  the  band, 
is  now  a  healthy,  sprightly,  good-looking  little  lassie, 
petted  and  spoiled  by  all  the  band  except  the  mother, 
who  cannot  be  induced  to  notice  it. 

Had  the  Indians  of  years  ago  had  a  written  lan- 
guage, their  literature  would  probably  have  abounded 
with  personal  histories  as  interesting  and  dramatic  as 
those  of  Greece  and  Rome. 

They  seem,  however,  to  be  lacking  both  in  memory 
and  in  inventive  faculty,  and,  though  great  story- 
tellers, to  be  unable  to  weave  fact  and  fancy  into 
tradition. 

A  warrior  of  the  present  day  is  scarcely  able  to 
recount  the  deeds  of  prowess  of  his  own  father, 
though  of  his  own  remarkable  achievements  he  is 
never  weary  of  talking.  I  have,  therefore,  no  choice, 
but  am  forced  to  select  from  among  the  living  or 
recently  dead,  for  personal  histories  illustrative  of  the 
past  and  present  power  of  chiefs,  and  of  the  changes 
taking  place  in  tribal  government. 

When  Texas  was  annexed  to  the  United  States,  the 
Comanches,  by  far  the  most  powerful  Texan  tribe  of 
Indians,  v^ere  goverixed  by  San-ta-na^  a  chief  distui- 


■** 


'^) 


■  ■  <,.vr*-. 


■■^.:^\:-.tif-H-^-:- 


TT. 


■j(\  »;,^7,\'5^:"',-.- •'.•.j.-f»^->v.T';  ?5 


^(r 


;' '-.Jj'/is   '.■»fcK."#%'„V?iy'^'V'"  ■ 


8^ 


WONDERFUL    JOUKNEY. 


guished  above  all  others  by  his  eloquence  and  wisdom 
in  council,  and  his  daring,  skill,  and  success  in  the  field. 
His  word  was  law,  and  such  his  popularity  with  his 
tribe,  that  sub-chiefs  and  warriors  vied  with  each  other 
in  anticipating  his  wishes.  When  the  United  States 
troops  were  sent  to  occupy  and  defend  Texas,  it  was 
found  that  scarcely  a  place  in  all  the  length  and 
breadth  of , this  immense  new  state  was  safe  from  the 
incursions  of  this  tribe  of  daring  warriors.  Whites 
were  killed  and  scalped  on  the  very  outskirts  of  San 
Antonio,  then  the  most  populous  town  in  the  state; 
and  a  very  considerable  village,  !N^ew  Braunfels,  was 
sacked,  the  men  massacred,  and  the  women  and  chil- 
dren carried  into  captivity. 

The  scanty  force  of  regular  troops,  though  well- 
nigh  ubiquitous  (as  it  is  always  expected  to  be), 
failed  necessarily  to  protect  so  immense  an  extent  of 
territory  from  the  inroads  of  the  most  dashing  and 
venturesome  of  all  Indian  raiders. 

At  this  juncture  a  successful  effort  was  made  to 
bring  San-ta-na  into  coun  il  with  the  whites.  He 
was  loaded  with  presents,  and  induced  to  make  a  visit 
to  Washington  city. 

The  effect  of  such  a  journey  on  this  utterly  "  untu- 
tored savage  "  may  be  imagined.  The  immense  dis- 
tances traversed,  through  a  country  entirely  occupied 
by  white  men,  the  number  of  people,  the  great  cities, 
the  quantities  of  arms  and  warlike  appliances  of  all 
kinds,  convinced  him  of  the  utter  futility  and  cer- 
tainly disastrous  consequences  of  further  warfare  with 
the  whites. 

On  his  return  to  his  tribe  he  expla'ned,  as  far  as  he 
was  able,  what  he  had  seen,  and  attempted  to  impress 
on  his  people  the  necessity  of  keeping  the  peace. 


4° 


:    i 


KED   CLOUD. 


83 


They  at  once  attributecT  his  change  of  mind  to  bribery, 
and  his  account  of  his  journeyings  and  the  wonderB 
of  the  Avhite  man's  country  were  set  down  as  fabu- 
lous tales  "  got  up  "  for  a  purpose.  He  was  looked 
upon  with  suspicion,  as  a  traitor  to  the  interests  of 
his  people,  and  regarded  as  a  remorseless  and  crimi- 
nal liar.  His  influence  declined,  his  people  fell  away 
from  him,  and  ambitious  sub-chiefs  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity of  increasing  their  own  power  and  influence. 

A  few  years,  and  this  once-powerful  leader,  heart- 
broken, deserted  by  all  except  two  faithful  wives, 
paid  the  last  debt  to  nature.  In  a  little  caflon,  near 
the  Bandera  Pass,  was,  twenty  years  ago,  a  small 
mound  of  stones.  It  marked  the  final  resting-place 
of  the  greatest  Indian  warrior  of  his  time.  Such  was 
the  fate  of  an  hereditary  chief  who  dared  to  go  against- 
the  prejudices  of  his  tribe. 

The  history  of  Red  Cloud,  the  head  chief  of  the 
Ogallalla  Sioux,  now  living,  almost  reverses  the  pic- 
ture. Not  an  hereditary  chief,  he  owes  his  promi- 
nence to  his  persistent  hostility  to  the  whites. 

The  United  States  government  determined  to  open 
a  road  to  Montana  by  way  of  Powder  River.  It  must 
necessarily  pass  through  a  favorite  hunting-ground 
of  the  Sioux.  Treaties  were  made  with  prominent 
hereditary  chiefs  of  the  Sioux  bands,  by  whom  the  right 
of  way  was  granted.  So  great  was  the  dissatisfaction 
among  the  Indians  that  Red  Cloud  saw  his  opportu- 
nity, and,  denouncing  the  treaties  and  their  makers, 
he  declared  war  to  the  knife  against  every  white  man 
who  came  over  that  road,  or  ventured  into  that  coun- 
try. Clouds  of  warriors,  the  ambitious  and  the  dis- 
affected of  all  the  tribes  and  bands  of  that  country, 
flocked  to  his  standard.    The  hereditary  chiefs  found 


If 


..   .^/L. 


■•?;* 


f '  ")  •^„  '■*r^  '■'•"  "''I  jr 


84 


SPOTTED    TAIL. 


(»•'•> 


.74 


^?j\- 


■4. 


'fit 


themselves  deserted  and  powerless,  and  in  some  in- 
stances were  only  too  glad  to  preserve  their  control 
over  their  bands  by  acknowledging  Red  Cloud  as 
master.  A  long  and  tedious  war  ensued,  in  which 
Red  Cloud  made  a  great  reputation,  and  constantly 
received  accessions  to  his  power,  at  the  expense  of 
the  hereditary  chiefs. 

Avoiding  any  general  or  even  serious  engagement, 
he  so  harassed  all  trains  and  expeditions  that  the  few 
troops  then  in  his  country  could  scarcely  be  said  to 
hold  even  the  ground  they  actually  stood  upon. 
Several  forts  were  established,  but  they  protected 
only  what  was  inside  the  palisades.  A  load  of  wood 
for  fuel  could  not  be  cut  outside  without  a  conflict. 
This  at  last  culminated  in  the  terrible  massacre  of 
Fort  Phil  Kearney,  in  which  half  the  garrison  (gal- 
lantly, though  unwisely,  meeting  the  enemy  outside) 
perished  to  a  man. 

Instead  of  sending  more  troops,  and  promptly  and 
terribly  punishing  the  Indians,  a  "humane"  commis- 
sion was  appointed  to  treat  with  them.  The  garri- 
sons were  withdrawn,  the  road  abandoned,  and  in 
their  own  opinions  the  Indians  were  unconquerable, 
and  Red  Cloud  the  greatest  warrior  in  the  world. 

Spotted  Tail,  another  Sioux  chief  (already  men- 
tioned), also  rose  from  the  ranks.  When  a  boy  of 
nineteen  or  twenty  years,  he  incurred  the  implacable 
enmity  of  a  sub-chief,  already  noted  for  his  daring 
and  ferocity,  by  aspiring  to  a  girl  on  whom  the  chief 
had  set  his  eye.  One  day,  meeting  accidentally  a 
short  distance  from  the  camp,  the  chief  peremptorily 
demanded  of  Spotted  Tail  a  renunciation  of  the  girl 
under  penalty  of  instant  death.  Di*awing  his  knife. 
Spotted  Tail  defied  liim  to  do  his  worst.    A  long  and 


■^\5,a>'.t!»ife"^A«K4,« 


S,,*i  4 


' 


KING   OF   THE   SIOUX. 


'»^-   »7  i-^'*t 


85 


bloody  conflict  ensued.  Some  hours  after,  a  straggler 
from  camp  found  the  two  bodies  locked  in  a  death 
grip,  and  each  gaping  with  innumerable  wounds. 
The  chief  was  dead.  Spotted  Tail  recovered  to  step 
at  once  into  prominence;  custom,  among  all  the 
Plains  tribes,  investing  the  victor  in  such  a  duel  with 
all  the  honors  previously  borne  or  won  by  the  van- 
quished. "When,  a  few  years  after,  the  hereditary 
chief  died,  he  was  almost  unanimously  selected  as 
principal  chief,  in  spite  of  the  most  determined  oppo- 
sition of  the  sub-chief,  who  by  regular  succession 
should  have  obtained  the  position. 

Spotted  Tail  proved  an  able  and  judicious  ruler, 
and  well  justified  the  choice  of  his  tribe. 

In  1876,  General  Crook,  the  commander  of  the 
Military  Department  of  the  Platte,  wearied  with  the 
constant  dissensions  of  the  Sioux,  each  band  of  which 
was  ruled  by  a  selfish,  ambitious  and  independent 
chief,  determined  to  settle  the  difficulty  by  a  coup 
d'etat,  which  would  bring  all  the  bands  under  one 
controlling  influence. 

Spotted  Tail,  who  had  proved  himself  not  only  a 
man  of  intelligence  and  ability,  but  a  firm  friend  of 
both  Indian  and  white,  was  selected  to  be  the  supreme 
ruler,  and,  with  much  ceremonj'',  was  crowned  "  King 
of  the  Sioux." 

One  instance  of  what  may  be  termed  a  political 
execution,  and  I  have  done  with  the  subject  of  Indian 
government. 

Big  Mouth,  another  chief  of  the  Brule  Sioux,  was 
the  i)eer  of  Spotted  Tail  in  most  manly  and  warlike 
qualities.  In  the  constant  complications  arising  of 
late  years  from  the  more  direct  contact  of  Indian  and 
white,   Big   Mouth  steadily  gained  in   power  and 


<.T 


\* 


4 


^1 


3        lS 


U !>,*■"  '*^  ■* 


''■•I'v'Tlr"'?" 


ASSASSINATION  OF  BIG  MOUTH. 


influence.  A  few  years  ago  Spotted  Tail  made  a 
visit  to  Washington,  New  York,  ard  otiier  eastern 
cities,  and  was  much  feted.  On  his  return,  with 
changed  views  and  "  new-fangled  "  notions  as  to  the 
policy  of  the  Indians,  Big  Mouth  eagerly  seized  the 
opportunity  of  increasing  his  power  by  disparaging 
the  honesty  and  good  sense  of  his  superior  in  posi- 
tion. Finding  matters  inclined  to  go  against  him, 
Spotted  Tail  one  day  called  at  the  door  of  Big 
Mouth's  lodge  and  asked  to  speak  with  him.  On 
Big  Mouth's  appearance,  he  was  seized  by  two  war- 
riors, who  held  him  fast,  while  Spotted  Tail  di-ew  a 
pistol,  placed  it  against  his  body,  and  shot  him  dead. 

The  death  of  Spotted  Tail  was  a  curious  and 
tragic  coincidence.  A  feud  existed  between  him 
and  a  chief  named  Crow  Dog.  On  the  6th  August, 
1881,  these  enemies  met  near  the  Rosebud  Agency. 
Their  quarrel  was  terminated  by  Crow  Dog,  who, 
suddenly  drawing  a  pistol,  shot  Spotted  Tail  dead. 

In  addition  to  its  duties  as  'supreme  arbiter  of  all 
important  internal  affairs  of  the  tribe,  the  council  is 
vested  with  the  right  and  power  to  regulate  its  inter- 
course with  other  tribes  and  with  whites. 

What  may  be  termed  international  questions  are 
carefully  and  gravely  discussed  in  a  tribal  council. 
The  line  of  policy  or  action  being  agreed  upon,  the 
most  prominent  and  sagacious  chiefs  and'warriors  arc 
selected  to  present  and  argue  it  in  the  international 
council.  Such  a  council  of  eminent  United  States 
officials  and  prominent  chiefs  of  Sioux,  Cheyenncs, 
and  Arrapahoes  is  represented  on  page  seventy-one, 
from  a  photograph. 


■■yt'""';' 


-3 

o 
> 


7) 

> 

7J 


r; 

5 


^:-i,^T>,iy:.!r--  fV';  :  ■■•''i.  ■■    ■^'•■"■■''■' 


^wppp^^'^p'wwi^ippp 


CHAPTER  Y. 


SWINDLING    AND    ROBBING    THE    INDIANS.  —  MY 
OWN   OBSERVATIONS. 

The  "Treaty  System"  — Its  Absurdity  —  Stipulations  that  cannot  be 
Kept  —  How  Indians  are  Swindled  and  Robbed — "Wards  of  the 
Nation  "  —  Modoc  .Tack  —  General  Cunby's  Murderers  —  Expiation 
on  the  Gallows — The  "  Indian  Agent"  —  His  Absolute  Power —  How 
Maffiacres  are  Invited  —  1  oor  old  Mr.  Meeker — Our  "  Indian  Policy  " 

—  Forcible  Contrasts  —  My  Own  Observations  —  What  I  Have  Seen 

—  Un<.'Xiinipled  Scoundrelism  —  Stone  Calf s  Daughter  —  The  Flower 
of  the  Wigwam  —  An  lU-fated  Journey — Concealed  in  a  Thicket  — 
Threatened  with  Instant  Death  —  Escape  to  a  Friendly  Teepe  —  The 
Old  Chief's  Agony  —  A  Heait-broken  Warrior  —  My  Inability  to  Help 
Him  —  Praying  for  the  "  White  Man's  Road." 

T  would  be  out  of  place  here  to  enter 
into  an  analysis  of  the  steps  by  and 
through  which  the  absurd  "treaty  sys- 
tem "  was  foisted  upon,  and,  until  very 
recently,  acted  upon  as  the  basis  of  all 
governmental  intercourse  with  the  hun- 
dreds of  petty  Indian  tribes  which  in- 
habit our  wide  country.  I  say  absurd, 
for  if  we  admit  that  they  are  so  far  in- 
"ependent  states  that  their  relations  towards  us  must 
be  regulated  by  treaty,  we  necessarily  concede  their 
sovereign  right  to  make  treaties  with  other  nations. 
The  mere  statement  of  the  case  is  sufficient  demon- 
stration of  its  absurdity,  but  the  iniquities  of  the 
"  system  "  warrant  a  much  stronger  adjective. 

^  89 


'■^         y- 


iW 


■PW 


!"P^^^WWf!W 


'mm 


f 


''t:y^-:';'""^-'''ft'm~ 


-•—.*'■«  ■■  4--^- 


90 


TKADE   AND  INTERCOURSE   LAWS. 


Solemnly  to  "covenant  and  agree"  to  cIo  that  which 
we  have  no  intention  of  doing,  or  which,  with  the  best 
intent,  we  know  is  impossible  to  do,  is  criminal.  In 
consideration  of  certain  concessions  of  land,  we 
"  covenant  and  agree  "  to  pay  certain  fixed  annuities 
to  the  Indians,  yet  by  negligence  we  connive  at  the 
sequestration  of  a  large  percentage  of  the  money  or 
goods.  We  "covenant  and  agree"  t^  keep  white 
men  out  of  the  limits  of  the  new  reservation,  though 
we  well  know  that  a  government  constituted  as  ours, 
resting  on  a  popular  basis,  and  with  a  tide  of  immi- 
gration unparalleled  in  modern  times,  can  by  no  pos- 
sibility keep  the  faith  of  any  such  treaty. 

From  the  earliest  years  of  our  independence  as  a 
nation,  and  before  any  effort  had  been  made  to  con- 
fine the  western  tribes  within  restricted  areas,  each 
tribe  or  tribes  has  hid  v/ith  or  near  it  an  agent  ap- 
pointed by  the  government.  What  were  his  func- 
tions in  those  earlier  days  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
determine,  but  after  the  passage  of  the  "trade  and 
intercour;  e "  laws  in  1834,  he  represented  the  ma- 
chinery by  'which  those  laws  were  supposed  to  be 
cari'ied  out.  Those  laws  were  enacted  for  the  con- 
trol of  white  men,  and  had  no  binding  force  on  the 
Indians.  The  agent  had  no  power  or  control  over 
the  tribes,  which  were  left  free  and  independent  sov- 
ereign peoples,  untrammelled  by  any  obligation  of 
law,  either  of  God  or  man. 

Loaded  with  this  incubus,  "the  treaty  system,"  the 
United  States  Government,  in  all  its  hundred  years 
of  "control  and  management"  of  the  Indians,  has 
never  awakened  to  the  facts  that  these  wild  and 
savage  natures  might  be  improved  by  the  discipline 
of  law,  and  that  no  steps  in  civilization  are  possible, 


nvpppifffP 


■?r^^  j^:":' 


■tf'/i 


tmmmmmilm 


MODOG   JACK. 


91 


tintil  the  savage  has  some  fixed  principle  of  action 
by  which  to  guide  himself. 

It  is  common  to  talk  of  the  crimes  of  the  Indians. 
However  horrible  the  atrocities  committed  by  them, 
and  recorded  in  almost  every  page  of  our  history 
since  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims,  there  are  no  crimes. 
A  crime  is  a  wilful  violation  of  law  or  moral  obliga- 
tion. The  Indian  knoAvs  no  law  either  human  or 
divine,  nor  does  he  understand  any  moral  obligation. 
His  deeds  of  rapine  and  cruelty  are  simply  his  mode 
of  making  war,  and  are  a  pa.'t  of  his  savage  condition. 
The  grandest  of  exploits,  the  noblest  of  virtues  to 
him,  are  comprehended  in  the  English  words  theft, 
pillage,  arson,  rapine,  murder.  He  is  a  savage, 
noxious  animal,  and  his  actions  are  those  of  a  ferocious 
beast  of  prey,  unsoftened  by  any  touch  of  pity  or 
mercy.  For  them  he  is  to  be  blamed  exactly  as  the 
wolf  and  tiger  are  blamed. 

Leaving  out  of  consideration  the  half-civilized 
tribes  of  the  Indian  territory,  there  are  yet  within  the 
limits  of  the  United  States  near  two  hundred  thousand 
savages  —  "  wards  of  the  nation,"  for  whom  the  gov- 
ernment in  its  wisdom  thinks  no  law  is  necessary. 
Indians  may  murder  Indians ;  Indians  may  ravage  the 
settlements,  committing  all  the  acts  known  in  our 
statutes  as  capital  crimes,  and  there  is  no  court  of 
justice,  either  civil  or  military,  which  can  legally 
punish  them.  Such  atrocities  have  been  punished. 
Modoc  Jack  and  his  associates,  for  the  murder  of 
General  Canby  and  the  commissioners;  the  ring- 
leaders of  the  Sioux  massacres  in  Iowa,  and  many 
others  have  expiated  their  deeds  on  the  gallows,  but 
the  punishment  was  not  by  virtue  of  any  law  of  the 
land.    They  suffered  under  the  operation  of  the  old, 


r* 


'^ 


*!7-™  "tt     "J  ''"i"U^'V!'   '^.J^'"^.^ 


■%.t;-,X"'''f:'y 


•;.wr'f'^';p"' 


92 


NO  ADVANCE   POSSIBLE. 


old  law,  the  foundation  of  all  law,  "the  law  of 
retaliation." 

One  of  the  first  and  most  necessary  steps  towards 
the  civilization  of  any  savage  people,  is  to  establish 
and  enforce  a  code  of  laws,  but  to  do  this  we  must 
necessarily  give  up  the  pet  idea  of  many  human- 
itarians. We  cannot  make  laws  for  other  "  indepen- 
dent nations,"  and  we  must  elect  either  to  let  the 
"  independent  nations "  die  out  in  ignorance  and 
squalor,  or  to  throw  overboard  the  whole  system, 
treaties  and  all. 

Since  the  confinement  of  the  Indians  to  compara- 
tively restricted  areas  (reservations)  the  government 
has  found  it  absolutely  necessary  to  exeroise  more 
control  of  them  than  is  consistent  with  their  inde- 
pendence as  nations,  or  warranted  by  treaty  stipula- 
tions. As  in  many  other  cases,  it  carries  water  on 
both  shoulders,  appeasing  the  humanitarians  by  a 
pretence  of  conformity  to  treaties,  while  actually  by 
means  of  the  agent  and  the  anny,  controlling  the 
Indians  almost  as  effect  aally  as  if  they  were  recognized 
prisoners  of  war.  This  control  is,  however,  restiietcd 
to  the  confinement  of  the  Indians  to  the  reservation, 
no  interference  with  their  social  or  moral  habits 
being  permitted. '  The  consequence  is  that  the  Indians 
have  not  and  cannot  advance  beyond  their  original 
barbarism. 

For  all  purposes  of  restraint  the  power  of  the  chiefs 
has  greatly  diminished,  and  tribal  government  is 
practically  extinct.  While  destroying  the  slight  safe- 
guard with  which  Indian  custom  had  surrounded 
individual  rights,  the  government  has  furnished  no 
substitute.  There  is  absolutely  no  protection  for 
life,  property,  or  individual  rights,  except  that  which 


^ 


THE  INDIAN  AGENT. 


93 


each  head  of  a  family  can  give  to  his  belongings,  and 
the  condition  of  affairs  is  becoming  worse  every  year. 
The  only  punishment  ever  inflicted  by  the  agent  is  a 
short  confinement  in  the  guard-house,  and  even  this 
is  illegal  and  purely  arbitrary.  This  punishment  has 
little  terror  for  the  vicious,  and  every  day  outrages 
are  committed  with  impunity. 

The  class  of  men  selected  as  agents,  and  the  mode 
of  their  selection,  have  always  been  one  of  the  scan- 
dals of  the  government,  but  the  last  device,  the  leav- 
ing of  that  selection  to  the  Christian  churches  of  the 
country,  is  a  fitting  climax  to  the  preposterous  acts 
which  for  a  century  have  stultified  the  governmental 
"  control  and  management "  of  Indians.  The  Indian 
agent  is  actually  the  governor  of  one  or  more  tribes 
of  wild  men.  lie  is  the  representative  of  the  power 
and  will  of  the  United  States.  His  duties  are  the 
"  control  and  management"  of  the  whole  political  and 
financial  affairs  of  the  tribes,  as  connected  with  the 
government.  These  tribes  are  a  warlike  race,  whose 
pastime  is  pillage  and  bloodshed,  whose  idea  of  right 
is  simply  might,  whose  respect  for,  and  appreciation 
of  their  ruler,  is  exactly  in  proportion  to  his  character 
as  a  soldier,  and  the  power  of  will  which  enables  him 
to  control  masses  of  men.  To  place  a  poor  old  man 
like  Mr.  Meeker,  however  faithful,  honest,  and  eai- 
nest  he  may  be,  in  charge  of  a  set  of  wild  brigands  like 
the  Utes,  is  simply  to  invite  massacre. 

There  are  very  few  voters  in  this  country,  even 
Christians,  who  would  be  willing  to  submit  to  a  law 
requiring  that  every  governor  of  a  state  or  territory 
must  be  a  member  of  some  one  of  the  numerous 
Christian  denominations.  Ignoring  religious  qualifi- 
cations, they  require  for  their  own  governor  a  man  of 


:■>, 


^?1 


if" 


wm^rm 


^B^pif^wpff*'*'^ 


iiP^!;iV.!^i.J.u|^Hji|^  fiJ|IW..r,'l-H  ' 


94 


CONTRASTS. 


standing  and  well-tried  administrative  ability.  Yet 
the  governor  of  a  state  composed  of  intelligent  and 
law-abiding  citizens,  is  a  very  easy  matter  compared 
to  the  government  of  a  tribe  of  savages. 

While  requiring  high  character  and  marked  ca- 
pacity for  the  easy  office,  we  are  inconsistent  enough 
to  give  the  difficult  and  dangerous  offices  to  men 
whose  only  merit  consists  in  supposed  earnestness  of 
Christian  feeling  and  sentiment.  I  doubt  if  there  be 
among  civilized  nations  any  but  our  own  which  could, 
so  comj^letely  have  submerged  itself  in  the  slough  of 
ridiculous  and  criminal  absurdity.* 

The  condition  of  Indians  and  Indian  affairs  on  the 
different  sides  of  the  British  line  has  been  the  s abject 
of  contrasts  by  many  eloquent  speakers  and  writers. 
That  difference  is  due,  in  my  opinion,  almost  wholly 
to  the  iniquitous  "  treaty  system,"  and  the  innumerable 
ills  growing  out  of  it. 

We  have  sj^ent  one  hundred  millions  of  money  in 
Indian  wars,  the  "British  nothhig.  We  have  lost 
thousands  of  soldiers  in  battle  with  Indians,  the 
British  few. 

Wc  have  lost  tens  of  thousands  of  settlers  and  emi- 
grants ruthlessly  slain,  the  women  carried  into  revolt- 
ing captivity,  their  homes  and  property  destroyed; 
the  British  have  lost  almost  none. 

We  call  the  Indians  dependent  nations,  the  Bi'it- 
ish  call  them  the  Indian  subjects  of  her  Majesty. 

We  make  solemn  treaties  with  them,  the  British 
make  laws  for  them. 


*  It  is  suggested,  whether  such  regulation  of  appointment  is  not  in 
violation  of  the  Constitution  of  tlio  United  Suites,  in  that  it  unites  Church 
and  State,  and  discriminates  against,  as  ineligible,  every  man  who  is  not 
a  member  of  a  Christian  Church. 


HI  a> 


■mx' 


1?^W^ 


-fh 


,«^r 


STONE   CALF. 


95 


We  attempt  to  control  them  by  an  almost  irrespon- 
sible agent,  backed  by  bayonets;  the  British  control 
them  as  they  do  their  other  citizens,  by  magistrates 
and  police. 

It  is  true  that  the  problems  are  not  the  same  on  the 
two  sides  of  the  line.  The  pressure  of  our  resistless 
tide  of  immigration  has  a  constantly  exasperating 
effect  on  the  Indians,  but  that  very  pressure  should 
warn  the  government  that  its  treaties  cannot  be  car- 
ried out,  and  for  that  reason,  if  for  no  other,  should 
be  abrogated. 

In  a  previous  chapter  I  have  given  some  illustra- 
tions of  the  moral  condition  of  the  Indians.  Inade- 
quate as  were  their  own  rules  for  the  punishment  of 
social  wrongs,  there  was  yet  that  natural  law 
of  retaliation,  which,  under  the  tribal  government, 
somcAvhat  deterred  even  the  most  reckless  from 
the  grossest  acts  of  selfishness  and  passion.  Kow 
that  the  agent  has  some  control,  even  these  poor 
safeguards  are  torn  away,  and  license  stalks  ram- 
pant. 

A  case  occurred  in  ^N^ovember,  1880,  under  my  own 
observation,  near  the  cantonment  in  the  Indian  Ter- 
ritory, which  for  cold-blooded  scoundrelism  and  utter 
disregard  of  social  rights  and  duties,  surpassed  any- 
thing in  even  my  widely  extended  experience  of 
Indian  atrocity. 

Stone  Calf  is  a  prominent  chief  of  the  Southern 
Cheyennes.  He  is  about  sixty  years  of  age,  and 
though  in  his  earlier  days  was  a  ruthless  and  most 
uncompromising  enemy  to  the  white  race,  has  within 
the  last  few  years  accepted  the  inevitable,  and  is  one 
of  the  foremost  of  the  Cheyennes  in  his  eagerness  for 
instruction  and  enlightenment,  and  in  his  desire  to 


'^-'■^'■' 


y.4 


r 


-•K-h>  ■ 


96         OUTRAGE  OF  STONE  CALF'S  DAUGHTER. 

"travel  the  white  man's  road."*  He  is  brave,  truth- 
ful, and  manly,  an  exceptionally  good  specimen  of 
barbaric  life.  The  child  of  his  old  age,  his  pet  and 
jewel,  was  a  pretty  little  maiden  of  thirteen  years. 
One  day  he  wished  to  communicate  with  a  sub-chief 
whose  camp  was  some  seven  miles  from  his  down  the 
river.  Without  a  thought  or  suspicion  of  danger  to 
her,  he  directed  his  daughter  to  go  to  the  camp  of  the 
sub-chief  and  convey  his  message.  Starting  out, 
accompanied  (as  is  imperatively  demanded  by  Indian 
custom)  by  another  girl,  she  executed  the  commission 
and  started  on  her  return  to  her  father's  camp. 

About  half  way  between  the  two  camps  was  located 
the  teepe  of  a  member  of  Stone  Calf's  band,  a  stal- 
wart, reckless  ruffian,  impatient  of  restraint  and 
generally  living  away  from  other  people  of  his  tribe. 
He  noted  the  southward  journey  of  the  two  girls,  and 
laid  his  plans.  Hiding  in  a  small  ravine  which  it  was 
necessary  for  them  to  cross  on  their  return,  he 
suddenly  sprung  from  his  covert,  seized  the  bridle  of 
the  horse  ridden  by  Stone  Calf's  daughter,  and  pre- 
senting a  pistol  at  the  head  of  her  companion  ordered 
her  to  leave  on  pain  of  death;  a  hint  which  was 
inmiediately  acted  upon. 

Leading  the  horse  of  the  unhappy  girl  he  conducted 
her  to  his  lodge,  and  there  in  the  presence  of  his  two 
or  three  wives,  brutally  outraged  her,  keeping  her  a 
prisoner  all  that  night  and  the  following  day  until 
afternoon,  when,  fearing  some  action  of  Stone  Calf, 
he  carried  her  off  into  a  thicket  where  both  remained 
hid  until  dark.  Anxious  to  discover  what  Stone  Calf 
was  doing  or  intended  to  do,  and  yet  afraid  to  leave 

*  The  Indian  idiomatic  mode  of  expressing  "  the  adoption  of  all  the 
manners,  customs,  habits,  and  laws  of  the  whites." 


1 


r 


■f'"'';'-W^' 


J 


AP 


X 


PRATER  FOR  THE  WHITE  MAN^S   ROAD. 


97 


the  girl,  he  forced  her  to  accompany  him  to  the 
military  post.  Threatening  her  with  sure  death  if 
she  moved,  he  left  her  behind  a  dark  corner  of  the 
trader's  store,  while  he  cautiously  peered  into  the 
uncurtained  windows  in  search  of  Stone  Calf.  The 
poor  girl,  watching  her  opportunity,  disappeared  in  the 
darkness,  and  made  her  way  to  the  teepe  of  one  of 
the  Indians  employed  at  the  post  as  scouts.  Here 
she  was  recognized,  and  on  telling  her  story,  was 
protected  until  morning,  and  then  delivered  to  her 
father.  That  day  Stone  Calf  came  to  me  almost 
heart-broken,  related  all  the  horrible  details,  and 
begged  for  vengeance. 

"Have  you  among  yourselves  no  remedy  for  such 
outrages?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "I  can  kill  him,  and  I  ought  to 
kill  him,  but  the  agent  is  not  my  friend,  and  if  I  do 
kill  this  scoundrel,  the  agent  will  put  me  in  the  guard- 
house, and  when  I  get  out  not  only  my  daughter,  but 
my  wives  and  family  will  all  be  gone  or  outraged." 

'^'I  am  truly  sorry  for  you,  my  friend,"  I  said, 
"but  I  can  do  absolutely  nothing.  If  this  were  a 
white  villain  'I  would  put  him  in  my  guard-house, 
and  turn  him  over  to  the  civil  authorities  for  trial,  but 
he  is  an  Indian,  and  there  is  no  law  to  punish  such 
acts  when  committed  by  Indians." 

Covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  the  old  man  was 
bent  and  racked  with  emotion.  Recovering  himself 
he  placed  his  hand  on  my  arm,  and  in  a  quivering 


voice,  said: 


"I  am  sick  of  the  Indian  road,  it  is  not  good;"  then 
raising  his  eyes  to  Heaven,  he  added: 

"I  hope  the  Good  God  will  give  us  the  white  man's 
road  before  we  are  all  destroyed." 


$• 


'X 


r 


N 


T.M«lW)TV«|»TiTi>»HTIir< 


m^^m 


"•-?  ("■'vj'^r''' 


CHAPTER  VI. 

RELIGION    OP    THE    INDIAN  —  A    STRANGE    FAITH  — 
THE    GREAT  MYSTERY   OF   INDIAN   "  MEDICINE." 

The  Indian  Idea  of  God  — The  Good  God  — The  Bad  God  — The  Per- 
petual Struggle  between  Them  —  '*TI:e  Happy  Hunting  Grounds" 

—  How  the  Indian  Soul  is  Excluded  from  Pai-adlse  —  Horror  of  Being 
Scalped  —  Desperate  Eflforts  to  Save  a  Friend's  Soul  —  How  the  Soul 
Escapes  From  the  Body  —  The  Indian  Idea  of  Hell  —  "  Good  Med- 
icine "  versus  "  Bad  Medicine  "  —  Ridiculous  Superstition  —  How 
"  Medicine  "  is  Made  —  Its  Great  Mysterj'  —  A  Sacred  Secret  —  De- 
ciding on  the  Ingi'cdients  —  Appeasing  the  Wrath  of  the  Bad  God 

—  Sacred  Ponies  —  Driving  a  Sharp  Bargain  with  the  Devil  —  Stick- 
ing to  the  Faith  of  their  Fathers  —  Spotted  Tail's  Argument  with 
Captain  Randall  —  ••  Black  Beard  "  —  My  Talk  with  an  Aged  Chief— 
Who  Made  the  World  ?  —  Fetichism  —  Digger  Indians. 

HAVE  elsewhere  remarked  that  it  is 
difficult  for  a  Christian  to  draw  the  line 
between  religion  and  morality,  but  un- 
less he  can  do  so,  it  will  be  impossible 
for  him  to  understand  the  Indian.  He 
must  even  go  further;  he  must  tone  his 
mind  to  the  consideration  of  a  people 
not  only  without  a  code  of  morals,  but 
without  a  God  in  our  sense  of  the  term. 
Religion  is  by  us  understood  to  be  the  love  and 
reverence  borne  towards  the  Supreme  Creator  of  all 
things,  and  a  performance  of  all  those  duties  which 
are  presumed  to  be  in  accordance  with  his  will.  In 
this  sense  the  Indian  has  no  religion. 

98 


m 


«(»^ 


SHADES   or  RELIGIOUS   BELIEF. 


99 


-> 


Abstractly,  religion  is  the  disposition  implanted  in 
ihe  inner  constitution  of  man  to  bow  down  before  the 
"  Unknowable."  In  this  sense,  man  is  so  universally  a 
religious  being,  that  travellers'  tales  of  finding  u  peo- 
ple in  Africa,  so  low  in  the  scale  of  humanity  as  to 
have  no  religious  belief  or  superstition  of  any  kind, 
have  met  with  doubt  if  not  absolute  discredit. 

Polytheism  would  seem  to  be  the  first  and  most 
natural  form  in  which  religious  belief  would  manifest 
itself,  and  this  first  idea  would  naturally,  after  a  time, 
be  modified  according  to  circumstances  of  locality,  or 
the  peculiar  idiosyncrasies,  of  the  people. 

This  is  eminently  the  case  among  the  Indian  tribes. 
Some  believe  in  a  great  many  gods,  some  in  but  few. 
There  is  not  to  my  knowledge  a  single  Indian  tribe 
that  believes  in  but  one.*  Some  believe  in  gods  of 
mountains,  of  rivers,  of  plains,  etc.,  others  believe  that 
these  are  not  gods  but  subordinate  spirits.  It  would 
be  a  life-time  labor  for  many  men  to  collect  all  the 
shades  and  gradations  of  belief  among  Indians.  I 
will  give  here  the  religion  of  the  Southern  Chey- 
ennes,  premising  that,  for  every  individual  Indian  of 
this  or  any  other  wild  tribes,  who  has  mounted  above 
the  plane  of  religious  belief  here  set  forth,  a  hundred 
are  still  below  it. 

*  In  a  letter  to  Schoolcraft,  Major  Neighbors  asserts  that  the  Co- 
manches  believe  in  "  one  Supreme  Being,  the  author  of  both  good  and 
bad,  who  lives  beyond  the  sun,  and  rules  the  world." 

I  knew  Major  Neiglibors  well,  while  he  was  agent  of  the  Comanches, 
and  had  frequent  conversations  with  him  as  to  the  habits  and  beliefs  of 
those  Indians.  The  ideas  expressed  to  Schoolcraft  were  those  enter- 
tained by  both  of  us  while  we  were  comparatively  unacquainted  with 
the  Indians. 

Subsequent  study  and  better  opportunities  for  forming  a  coiTect  opin- 
ion, convinced  me  that  the  Comanches  believe,  as  do  most  of  other  Plains 
ti'ibes,  in  two  gods,  but  are  more  than  ordinarily  indisposed  to  speak  of 
the  Bad  God. 


,^ 


^'>- 


m 


;^iiLSi't>'!-'.,ii 


,,o-.    ,    ... 


100 


THE  GOOD  AND  THE  BAD  GODS. 


The  Indian  is  as  religious  as  the  most  devout 
Christian,  and  lays  as  much  stress  on  form  as  a  Ritual- 
ist. He  believes  in  two  gods,  equals  in  wisdom  and 
power. 

One  is  the  Good  God.  His  function  is  to  aid  the 
Indian  in  all  his  undertakings,  to  heap  benefits  upon 
him,  to  deliver  his  enemy  into  his  hand,  to  protect  him 
from  danger,  pain,  and  privation.  He  directs  the  suc- 
cessful bullet,  whether  against  an  enemy,  or  against 
the  "  beasts  of  the  field."  He  provides  all  the  good 
and  pleasurable  things  of  life.  Warmth,  food,  joy, 
success  in  love,  distinction  in  war,  all  come  from  him. 

The  other  is  the  Bad  God.  He  is  always  the  enemy 
of  each  individual  red  man,  and  exerts  to  the  utmost 
all  his  powers  of  harm  against  him.  From  him  pro- 
ceed all  the  disasters,  misfortunes,  privations,  and  dis- 
comforts of  life.  He  causes  all  the  pain  and  suffering, 
he  brings  the  cold,  he  drives  away  the  game,  he 
deflects  the  otherwise  unerring  bullet;  from  him  come 
defeat  and  wounds  and  death. 

The  action  of  these  two  gods  is  not  in  any  way 
influenced  by  questions  of  abstract  right  or  morality, 
as  we  understand  them. 

The  Good  God  is  always  the  Indian's  friend  and 
assistant  in  everything  that  he  wishes  or  proposes  to 
do.  If  the  Indian  desires  to  steal  a  horse,  or  the  wife 
of  a  friend,  to  kill  another  Indian,  or  to  raid  a  settle- 
ment of  whites,  it  is  the  Good  God  to  whom  he  turns 
for  countenance,  and  it  is  by  his  assistance  that  he 
hopes  to  accomplish  his  purpose. 

The  Bad  God  always  thwarts  ;  and  from  the  lame- 
ness of  a  horse  to  final  death,  every  annoyance,  morti- 
fication, or  disaster  is  attributed  to  the  direct  influence 
of  the  Bad  God. 


f^'f^iF' 


r 


NO    FUTURE    PUNISHBIENT. 


101 


Having  no  sense  of  right  or  wrong  (as  we  under- 
stand those  terms),  no  innate  consciousness,  no  idea 
of  moral  accountability,  either  present  or  future,  the 
Indian  ascribes  to  the  direct  action  of  one  power  all 
the  good,  and  to  that  of  the  other  power  all  the  bad, 
that  may  happen  to  him. 

"Why,  or  wherefore,  the  Indian  knows  not,  but  he  is 
firmly  convinced  that  not  an  hour,  not  a  moment 
passes,  without  a  struggle  between  the  two  gods,  of 
which  he  is  the  immediate  cause  and  subject. 

The  Good  God  is  not  an  exacting  or  jealous  god. 
For  his  unremitting  labors,  his  devoted  services,  his 
constant  watchfulness  in  behalf  of  the  Indian,  he 
demands  nothing  in  return.  No  prayers  are  neces- 
sary, for  he  does  the  very  best  he  can  without  being 
asked.  No  thanks  are  necessary,  for  he  does  these 
things  because  he  chooses  to  do  them.  He  is  the 
Indian's  friend  as  the  Bad  God  is  his  enemy,  for  some 
reason  of  his  own,  impenetrable,  inscrutable. 

These  two  gods  are  the  gods  and  rulers  of  the  life 
only  in  this  world,  for  while  the  Indian  firmly  believes 
in  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  life  after  death, 
the  power  of  these  gods  does  not  extend  to  it.  Their 
function  is  restricted  entirely  to  benefits  or  injuries 
in  this  life,  and  the  Indian's  condition  after  death 
does  not  in  any  way  depend  either  on  his  own  con- 
duct while  living,  or  on  the  will  of  either  of  the  gods. 

All  peccadilloes  and  crimes  bring,  or  do  not  bring, 
their  punishment  in  this  world,  and  whatever  their 
character  in  life,  whatever  the  actual  "  deeds  done  in 
the  flesh,"  the  souls  of  all  Indians  reach,  after  some 
days'  journey,  a  paradise  called  by  t'  m  "The  Happy 
Hunting  Grounds,"  unless  debarred  by  accident. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  the  Indian  soul  can 


■'s'-'  •} 


■i 


'¥4 


„v,*. 


1/ 


i:i 


"    i      'i 


k^'U-r-'  '£.    '-'i^       ^   J     A.«fti2    '' 


--^    tJS, 


wm 


^^m^^t^rmmw' 


"ff'  •>  '»■ '» ■.'.'-:i 


102 


TO   SAVE  A  SOUL. 


be  prevented  from  reaching  this  paradise.     The  first 

is  by  scalping  the  head  of  the  dead  body.     Scalping 

is   annihilation  ;*   the   soul  ceases  to   exist.      This 

accounts  for  the  eagerness  of  Indians  to  scalp  all 

their  enemies,  and  the  care  they  take  to  avoid  being 

themselves  scalped.    iN'ot  unfrequently  Indians  do  not 

scalp  slain  enemies.     This   comes  from  their  belief 

that  each  person  killed  by  them  (and  not  annihilated 

by  scalping)  will  be  their  servant  in  the  next  world. 

It  will  be  found  invariably  that  the  slain  enemies  were 

either  very  pusillanimous  or  remarkably  brave.     The 

Indian  reserves  the  first  to  be  his  servant,  because  he 

expects  to  have  no  trouble  in  managing  him,  and  the 

last,  to  gratify  his  vanity  in  the  future  state  by  having 

a  servant  so  well  known  as  a  stalwart  and  renowned 

warrior  in  this  world. 

This  superstition  is  the  occasion  for  the  display  of 
the  most  heroic  traits  of  Indian  character.  Reckless 
charges  are  made  and  desperate  chances  taken  to 
carry  o'  unscalped  the  body  of  a  chief  or  friend. 
Nuir.cr'  3  instances  hove  occurred  when  many  were 
killed  in  vain  eflforts  to  recover  and  carry  off  unscalped 
the  bodies  of  slain  warriors.  A  Homer  might  find 
many  an  Indian  hero  as  worthy  of  immortal  fame  as 
Achilles  for  his  efforts  to  save  the  body  of  his  friend, 
and  no  Qiristian  missionary  ever  evinced  a  more 
noble  indifference  to  danger,  than  the  savage  Indian 
displays  in  his  efforts  to  save  (as  he  thinks)  his 
friend's  soul.  Let  the  scalp  be  torn  off,  and  the  body 
becomes  mere  carrion,  not  even  worthy  of  burial. 

The  other  method  by  which  an  Indian  can  be  cut 

*  This  was,  only  a  few  years  ago,  almost  the  universal  orthodox  be- 
lief of  the  Plains  Indians.  It  will  be  seen  in  a  subsequent  chapter  on 
scalping,  that  this  belief  is  rapidly  losing  ground. 


^^ 


■s; '^.■^' 


^'.  >• 


••i^n 


tp^ 


■«i^«««atMMip«iPHP 


^i^ 


■^'5 


\     !^- 


'  1  i^     '.■.»     "    .»'««r,     rw-   -'»".' \, ',  r^^  .*e  * 


>    /. 


THE   INDIAN   HELL. 


103 


off  from  the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds  is  by  strangu- 
lation. 

The  Indian  believes  that  the  soul  escapes  from  the 
body  by  the  mouth,  which  opens  of  itself  at  the 
moment  of  dissolution  to  allow  a  free  passage.  Should 
death  ensue  by  strangulation,  the  soul  can  never 
escape,  but  must  always  remain  with,  or  hovering 
near  the  remains,  even  after  complete  decompo- 
sition. 

As  the  soul  is  always  conscious  of  its  isolation,  and 
its  exclusion  from  participation  in  the  joys  of  paradise, 
this  death  hab  peculiar  terrors  for  the  Indian,  who 
would  infinitely  prefer  to  suffer  at  the  stake,  with  all 
the  tortures  that  ingenuity  can  devise,  than  die  by 
hanging. 

This  is  the  only  hell  that  Indian  religion  or  philoso- 
phy has  arrived  at,  and  it  will  be  noticed  that  this 
terrible  and  endless  disaster  may  be  a  mere  matter  of 
accident.  The  unfortunate  sufferer  might  be  a  man 
of  probity  and  wisdom  (from  the  Indian  standpoint), 
a  woman  of  virtue,  or  an  innocent  child,  but  should 
one  or  the  other  chance  to  become  entangled  in  the 
lariat  of  a  grazing  horse  and  strangled,  the  soul 
would  surely  suffer  the  Indian  hell. 

Believing  that  no  line  of  conduct  of  his  own  can 
avail  him  for  good  or  evil;  feeling  his  helplessness  and 
entire  dependence  on  the  relative  powers  of  the  two 
Great  Beings  who  fight  continually  for  or  against 
him ;  the  Indian's  first  and  most  important  concern  is 
to  find  some  sure  means  by  which  he  can  discover 
which  of  the  gods  has  the  ascendancy  for  him  at  any 
particular  time.    For  this  he  resorts  to  divination. 

Every  Indian  language  has  a  word  expressive  of 
the  attitude  of  the  gods  towards  the  Indian.    For 


..-^ 


3 


^    \      1 


'V 
■'  A 


V 


104 


MEDICINE. 


lack  of  a  better  term,  this  is  translated  into  the  Eng- 
lish word  "  medicine." 

CatHn,  writing  from  among  the  Crows  and  Black- 
feet,  says,  "*  Medicine 'is  a  great  word  in  this  coun- 
try. ...  In  its  common  acceptation  here  it  means 
mystery  and  nothing  else.  .  .  .  The  fur  traders  in 
this  country  are  nearly  all  French,  and  in  their  lan- 
guage a  doctor  or  physician  is  called  ^medecin.'  The 
Indian  country  is  full  of  doctors,  and  as  they  are  all 
magicians,  and  skilled,  or  profess  to  be  skilled,  in 
many  mysteries,  the  word  *  medicine'  has  become 
habitually  applied  to  everything  mysterious  or  unac- 
countable." 

There  is  probably  no  room  to  doubt  this  to  be  the 
true  origin  of  the  term,  but  Catlin's  explanation  of 
its  meaning  is  not  correct,  or  rather  not  complete. 

The  Indian  thinks  that  he  perfectly  understands  his 
religion,  and  believes  himself  to  be  as  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  his  gods  as  many  of  our  ministers 
assume  to  be  with  theirs. 

"  Medicine  "  not  only  means  "myst?ry,"  but  religious 
mystery.  The  word  differing  in  each  Indian  lan- 
guage, but  universally  mistranslated  "  medicine  "  ex- 
l^resses  the  relation  of  the  gods  to  each  other,  with 
reference  to  a  tribe  or  particular  individual. 

The  gods  are  always  hostile  to  each  other.  One  is 
always  the  Indian's  friend,  the  other  always  his  enemy. 
This  much  i?  known  with  absolute  certainty. 

Certain  ngs  in  nature  are  pleasing  and  helpful 
to  the  Good  God ;  other  things  to  the  Bad  God.  Com- 
mon use  and  habit  have  decided  the  religious  status 
of  all  things  to  which  the  Indians  are  accustomed, 
but  of  anything  new  and  therefore  mysterious  they 
are  always  in  doubt.    It  may  be  "good  medicine," 


' :v'''*'**i'i'-:';«"-^'^-;'^,3**'''5"^-  •''^'^ 


-i't:yt-:-v   \''-'''-C'<,^i'.f',-> 


• '(  '.; 


AUGURY. 


105 


that  is,  pleasing  to  the  Good  God,  but  it  may  be  the 
reverse.  As  the  Indian  stands  in  no  fear  of  the  Good 
God,  but  in  most  abject  and  dreadful  awe  of  the  Bad 
God,  it  is  but  natural  in  him  to  receive  all  innovations 
with  the  utmost  caution  and  dread. 

The  term  "  medicine  "  is  applied  to  every  condition 
of  the  Indian  life,  to  almost  every  object  of  its  sur- 
roundings. A  man  gets  up  all  right  in  the  morning, 
feels  splendidly,  everything  goes  well  with  him.  His 
"  medicine  "  is  good,  that  is,  the  Good  God  is  in  the 
ascendant  for  him  that  day.  Another  man  don't  feel 
very  well,  things  go  wrong,  he  misses  a  good  shot  at 
a  deer,  or  his  sweetheart  shows  him  the  cold  shoulder. 
His  "  medicine  "  is  bad,  that  is,  the  Bad  God  has  him 
in  his  power  for  the  time. 

Everything  supposed  lucky  or  healthful,  or  indica- 
tive in  any  way  of  the  presence  and  supremacy  of 
the  Good  God  is  "good  medicine,"  everything  the 
reverse  is  "bad  medicine." 

Being,  like  all  primitive  people,  extremely  super- 
stitious, there  is  scarcely  anything  that  does  not  indi- 
cate the  presence  and  pleasure  of  one  or  the  other  of 
the  gods.  The  flight  of  a  bird  through  the  air,  the 
course  of  a  snake  in  the  grass,  the  yelping  of  a  fox, 
or  the  manner  in  which  his  pony  carries  his  tail  or 
cocks  his  ears,  each  and  all  have  to  the  Indian  a 
8pir':ual  significance  and  meaning.  Differing  in  this 
from  the  early  Romans  and  some  other  primitive 
nations,  he  requires  no  augur,  but  can  himself  inter- 
pret all  signs,  at  least  to  his  own  satisfaction.  A 
party  starting  out  on  a  dangerous  foray  will  watch 
carefully  every  sign,  and  should  something  occur 
unusually  ominous,  it  will  return  to  camp  to  repeat 
the  attempt  under  more  favorable  auspices. 

8 


vj 


^*(;.     ..  A 


fW^'K     ■    ■>  ',iw 


^^^ 


106 


MAKING  MEDICINE. 


-r 


•fe"  » 


For  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of  the  immediate 
future,  the  Indian  depends  upon  a  process  of  making 
"  medicine,"  general  in  its  entirety,  but  varying  in  its 
details,  according  to  the  peculiar  ideas  and  supersti- 
tion of  each  individual. 

Earth  or  sands  of  diiferent  colors,  ashes  of  certain 
plants,  or  of  particular  bones  or  portions  of  birds, 
animals,  or  reptiles,  and  other  ingredients,  varying 
with  the  special  superstition  of  each  individual  In- 
dian, are  mixed  together  in  a  shallow  dish  or  pan 
kept  for  that  sole  purpose,  and  gently  stirred  with  a 
stick.  From  the  combination  of  colors,  or  some 
other  peculiarity  developed  by  the  process,  the  In- 
dian believes  he  can  infallibly  divine  which  god  is  to 
him  in  the  ascendant  at  the  time. 

Should  the  "  medicine  "  be  good,  a  small  quantity 
is  put  up  in  tiny  bags  of  dressed  deer-skin  and  tied 
in  the  hair  of  the  warrior,  in  the  tail  of  his  war-hoi'se, 
and  on  the  necks  of  his  women  and  children.  Should 
any  be  left  over  it  is  carefully  burned  in  the  lodge 
fire.  Should  the  process  develope  "  bad  medicine," 
the  mixture  is  carried  outside  the  camp  and  carefully 
buried  in  the  ground,  no  one  touching  it. 

There  is  no  necessary  similarity  either  in  the  results 
attained  by  difTerent  individuals,  or  in  the  conclusiors 
deduced  from  them.  Each  Indian  has  been  taught  by 
his  father,  or  nearest  old  warrior  relative,  the  general 
princijiles  involved  in  making  "medicine,"  and  the  gcn- 
ei'al  rules  for  determining  its  good  and  bad  qualities. 

At  least  one  ingredient  in  the  "  medicine  "  of  each 
Indian  must  be  special  to  himself  and  a  secret  fi'om 
all  the  world  beside.  On  his  initiation  as  warrior 
he  has  gone  off  alone  to  some  solitary  mountain  or 
secluded  thicket,  spending  many  long  and  anxious 


4- 


.1© 


.:,?r. 


t 


-••Iftf 


THE    MOMENTOUS   QUESTION. 


107 


houFB  in  deep  religious  meditation  of  the  question, 
the  most  momentous  of  his  life,  "What  shall  that 
ingredient  be?"  When  hunger  and  thirst  have  ex- 
hausted his  vital  powers,  he  falls  into  a  trance,  dur- 
ing which  the  important  sc^^'ot  is  revealed  to  him. 
Thenceforward  he  is  not  only  man  and  warrior,  but 
priesu  for  himself  and  family  (if  he  has  one),  makes 
his  own  "  medicine,"  and  by  oft-repeated  experiment 
becomes  as  expert  in  reading  the  secret  involved  in 
the  combination  as  were  the  augurs  of  Rome. 

According  to  the  best  authorities  and  to  tradition,  it 
was  the  custom  thirty  or  forty  years  ago  for  an  In- 
dian to  select  the  special  ingredient  of  his  "  medicine  " 
but  once  in  his  life,  sticking  to  and  believing  in  it 
through  all  subsequent  years  of  good  or  ill  fortune. 
This  is  changed  at  the  present  time,  and  an  Indian 
who  has  an  unusually  long  or  severe  turn  of  bad  luck, 
attributes  his  misfortune  to  the  failure  of  his  "  medi- 
cine," and  going  off  alone  will  starve  himself  into  a 
trance  in  the  hope  of  having  a  new  and  more  effica- 
cious ingredient  revealed  to  him. 

The  special  and  secret  ingredient  used  by  each 
Indian  in  his  "medicine"  is  kept  in  a  little  pouch 
always  on  his  person,  and  always  carefully  concealed 
even  from  his  wives  or  most  intimate  friends. 

This  secret  ingredient  of  each  warrior's  "medicine" 
must  not  be  confounded  with  his  "totem."  The 
"  medicine  "  is  a  purely  religious  matter,  a  secret  be- 
tween himself  and  his  gods.  The  totem  is  not  in  any 
sense  religious.  It  is  the  "  coat-of-arms  "  of  the  indi- 
vidual, carried  about  with  him  on  all  occasions  of 
ceremony  or  display,  to  be  shewn,  examined,  admired, 
handled.  The  two  are  frequently  confounded  even 
by  persons  who  ought  to  know  better. 


t^4 


'•t     CI 


'^ 


iv.- 


1  "ir 

i  '^  i 


m: 


■"•^^ 


immci 


!  J'iMW 


^mmm^m 


'W-:  ^■'y'^- 


=  ^ff  ■;'■■'  '-"."!.- 


'Y>  :.i^'"^^'^■;if^>';;x^;^-'i^■fl^:*V}>:'v^'>^"^T.'^^^^ 


108 


THE   GREAT   SPmiT. 


No  Indian  will  commence  anything,  or  undertake  a 
hunt  or  trivial  journey  of  a  few  days,  without  first 
making-  '*  medicine."  If  "  good,"  he  goes  away  happy 
and  sure  of  success,  unless  bad  omens  should  subse- 
quently disconcert  and  turn  him  back.  If  "  bad,"  he 
remains  at  home.  In  spring,  summer,  and  autumn, 
when  the  Indian  life  is  active,  every  head  of  a  lodge 
will  make  "  medicine  "  probably  at  least  once  a  week. 

The  power  of  earnestness  is  well  exemplified  in  the 
influence  that  the  Indian  religion  obtains  over  the 
white  trappers  and  "squaw-men"  who  live  with 
them.  Nine-tenths  are  sooner  or  later  converted  to 
the  Indian  idea,  and  many  of  them  have  firm  faith  in 
their  power  of  making  "  medicine." 

The  Indians  believe  in  the  existence  of  spirits,  invisi- 
ble beings,  in  no  way  connected  with  either  of  the 
gods.  These  spirits  are  neither  good  nor  bad,  and 
can  do  no  serious  injury  to  man,  but  delight  in  mis- 
chief. They  live  in  rocks,  mountains,  woods,  and 
deserts.     It  is  the  elf  of  our  forefathers. 

Whatever  of  love  or  reverence  may  be  in  the  In- 
dian nature  is  befc towed  on  the  Good  God;  and  in 
speaking  of  the  Great  Spirit,  it  is  to  this  god  that 
they  allude.  Of  his  friendship  and  assistance  to  the 
extent  of  his  ability  they  are  always  assured. 

Of  the  Bad  God  they  stand  in  most  abject  fear, 
and  are  constantly  devising  expedients  by  which  they 
hope  to  evade  or  turn  aside  some  portion  of  his 
wrathful  power.  They  rarely  speak  of  him ;  never,  if 
it  be  possible  to  avoid  it,  mention  his  name. 

Those  most  pious,  or  timid,  put  revere  and  oft- 
times  ridiculous  penances  on  themselves.  One  man 
will  never  allow  some  certain  meat  or  game  to  be 
cooked  for  food,  another  will  allow  no  loaded  gun  in 


J- 


'.  .i..'V  ^  ■'-;  J.  ^'i^i'y^j^ 


.vi^l": 


'..i-^2ih . '- 


^*r:' 


'  "^itW' ' 


''%:':f*,W. 


'%'t^:yiT^yW: 


~fr,fA^^-:, 


CONSECRATED  PONIES. 


109 


■■A'-: 


his  lodge,  nor  permit  any  m  n  to  enter  it  with  a  pistol 
on  his  person.  One  will  always  sit  down  in  a  certain 
way,  r^  facing  in  a  certain  direction;  another  will 
alwayw  spit  over  his  left  shoulder,  or  take  things 
given  -o  '  im  with  his  left  hand.  There  is  scarcely  a 
warrior  above  the  middle  age  who  has  not  some  pecu- 
liarity special  and  self-imposed  by  way  of  propitiation 
ofthe  Evil  One. 

They  believe  that  the  Bad  God  may  be  some- 
times bribed  into  an  act  of  favor ;  and  in  the  extrem- 
ity of  danger  will  vow,  if  permitted  to  escape,  to 
consecrate  a  pony  to  his  service. 

These  vows  are  faithfully  and  publicly  carried  out, 
and  the  pony  consecrated  becomes  thenceforward  a 
sacred  animal,  no  extremity  of  need  ever  inducing 
any  Indian  of  the  band  either  to  mount  or  strike  him 
with  a  whip.  I  have  seen  several  of  these  sacred 
ponies,  and  can  aver  that  the  Indian  drives  a  shrewd 
bargain  with  the  devil,  the  pony  consecrated  being 
invariably  the  most  worthless  old  bag  of  bones  in  the 
whole  herd.* 

Youdouism  and  Fetichism,  being  simply  forms  of 
belief  in  magic  or  idolatry,  are  discarded  as  forms  of 
religion;  and  accepting  Polytheism  as  the  starting 
point  of  religious  belief,  the  Indians,  for  so  utterly 
savage  a  race,  have  made  very  remarkable  progress 
in  their  religious  tenets. 

I  do  not  think  that  they  are  dependent  on  contact 
with  Christianity  for  any  portion  of  their  belief.  They 
have  worked  out  for  themselves  a  theology,  which,  if 

*  I  .am  informed  by  oflScers  who  have  served  in  Oregon  and  Wash- 
ington thill  tlie  Pacific  Indians  are  more  honorable  in  cariying  out  tlieir 
vows  to  the  Evil  One,  tlie  consecrated  pony  being  always  a  firat-clasa 
animal. 


m 


V,.lj 


>-i 


'§^ 


::Hi 


,  x: 


^'M 


^m¥ 


_  ■*•■ 


IPW 


'i'Of;!?'',  T  ''*' 


PWP»W 


'?*'^j"'^  -"i^ 'T"^""PV" 


110 


PROFESSIONAL  CHRISTIANS. 


W:' 


S-^ 


Biipplemented  by  a  code  of  morals,  might  have  pro- 
duced good  results. 

There  is  a  curious  point  of  resemblance  between 
the  beliefs  of  the  wild  Indian  and  the  Christian. 
Both  believe  in  two  great  beings.  The  former  be- 
lieves in  a  God  and  a  Devil,  equals  in  power  and  wis- 
dom. Christians  believe  in  an  Omnipotent  and  All- 
merciful  God,  but  are  so  inconsistent  as  to  believe  in 
a  Devil,  who,  over  human  conduct  and  human  souls, 
has  ten  times  as  much  power  as  the  Good  God. 

It  is  this  one  point  of  similarity  that  makes  the 
conversion  of  the  Indian  to  Christianity  so  extremely 
difficult.  He  cannot  possibly  be  made  to  understand 
how  the  All-good  God,  if  also  all-powerful,  can  per- 
mit the  All-bad  God  to  do  so  much  evil,  and  win  so 
many  souls.  Might  being  always  right  with  the  In- 
dian, he  takes  immediate  issue  on  this  paradox,  and 
cannot  be  made  to  believe  what  is  so  entirely  incon- 
sistent with  his  established  ideas. 

Indians  are  great  sticklers  for  form  and  lovers  of 
ceremony,  consequently  the  only  Christian  denomi- 
nation that  has  made  any  perceptible  progress  in  their 
nominal  conversion  is  the  Roman  Catholic.  I  say 
nominal  advisedly;  for  while  I  have  known  many 
Indians  who  professed  Christianity,  I  have  never 
vet  met  one  who  in  his  conversion  had  really  quitted 
xiis  ancient  faith.  He  is  a  Christian  just  so  far  as 
it  is  expedient  or  useful  to  him. 

Three  years  ago,  when  Spotted  Tail  was  using  all 
his  fine  intellect,  his  tact,  his  social  and  official  influ- 
ence, to  prevent  his  people  from  joining  Sitting  Bull, 
a  conference  was  one  day  held,  at  which  were  assem- 
bled a  few  whites  and  a  large  number  of  Indians  — 
Sioux. 


T 


^.4  .«v^>i»-:iJ'':'H5i'..v  -iv,  '.c  ^,' 


Vrnm  ViTT-^-iriiAiiWiV^rllimir'— — 4ir-(frifniiii>miiiMiLiiiiiiii  iiiHiii'im  mi^'iMlfciiii 


mm 


:r-<^ifr 


■U'T^rt.-w^^fw'^T;  j.w;v  !"'j'^;'<,ij 


'f^^'-ii.'  yr. 


SPOTTED  tail's  RELIGION. 


Ill 


^^<:... 


The  principal  white  man  present  was  an  officer  of 
the  army,  only  a  captain  (for  higher  rank  presumes 
either  special  good  fortune  or  a  life-time  of  service), 
but  who,  in  knowledge  of  Indians  and  success  in 
their  management,  is  second  to  no  man  on  the  fron- 
tier.*    His  Indian  name  is  Black  Beard. 

After  satisfactorily  settling  the  questions  of  policy 
which  had  arisen,  the  conference  closed,  and  its  mem- 
bers engaged  in  familiar  conversation. 

Spotted  Tail  turned  to  the  captain  and  said : 

"  Black  Beard,  I  have  a  serious  question  to  ask  you 
about  religion.     Can  you  answer  it?  " 

"  I  am  not  very  good  authority  on  religious  mat- 
ters," replied  Black  Beard,  "  and  I  don't  know  whether 
I  can  answer  it  or  not.  But  put  your  question,  and 
I  will  give  you  my  honest  opinion." 

"Well,"  said  Spotted  Tail,  "I  am  bothered  what  to 
believe.  Some  years  ago  a  good  man,  as  I  think, 
came  to  us.  He  talked  me  out  of  all  my  old  faith; 
and  after  a  while,  thinking  that  he  must  know  more 
of  these  matters  than  an  ignorant  Indian,  I  joined  his 
church,  and  became  a  Methodist.  After  a  while  he 
went  away;  another  man  came  and  talked,  and  I  be- 
came a  Baptist;  then  another  came  and  talked,  and  I 
became  a  Presbyterian.  Now  another  one  has  come, 
and  wants  me  to  be  an  Episcopalian.  What  do  you 
think  of  it?" 

"I  was  brought  up  an  Episcopalian,"  said  Black 
Beard,  "but  I  can't  give  you  any  advice  in  the  mat- 
ter. I  think  that  religion  must  be  a  matter  of  con- 
science, and  that  sect  has  little  to  do  with  it." 

"That,"  said  Spotted  Tail,  "is  just  what  I  am  be- 
ginning  to   think.      All   these   people   tell   different 

*  Captiiin  G.  M.  Randall,  23(1  United  States  Infantry. 


m 


1; 


i 

■.VI! 
■•* 

J 

■P. 


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m 


'■■;X*"*n'p>&'";>~'';'«-;;,"l;"'''~ 


X12 


OBIGIN   OF  CEEATION. 


stories,  and  each  wants  me  to  believe  that  his  special 
way  is  the  only  way  to  be  good  and  save  my  soul. 
I  have  about  made  up  my  mind  that  either  they  all 
lie,  or  that  they  don't  know  any  more  about  it  than  I 
did  at  first.  I  have  always  believed  in  the  Great 
Spirit,  and  worshipped  him  in  my  own  way.  These 
people  don't  seem  to  want  to  change  my  belief  in  the 
Great  Spirit,  but  to  change  my  way  of  talking  to  him. 
White  men  have  education  and  books,  and  ought  to 
know  exactly  what  to  do,  but  hardly  any  two  of  them 
agree  on  what  should  be  done." 

The  Plains  tribes  are  extremely  poor  in  tradition 
of  any  kind,  and  have  no  general  belief  as  to  the 
origin  of  Creation.  To  the  inquiry,  "  Who  made  the 
world?"  the  reply  is  usually  a  fixed  stare  and  a 
doubtful  shake  of  the  head,  as  if  the  question  were  a 
new  one. 

Occasionally  I  have  been  answered  :  "  The  white 
man  says  his  God  made  it,  and  I  guess  it  is  so.  I 
don't  know  who  else  could  have  done  it." 

I  once  talked  with  a  grave  and  dignified  Indian  of 
such  great  age  that  he  was  no  longer  able  to  num- 
ber his  years.  My  questions  were  answered  in  a  way 
which  quite  delighted  me,  and  I  began  to  believe  I 
had  found  a  treasure  of  Indian  theological  erudition. 
I  finally  asked  him,  — 

"Who  made  the  world?" 

"  The  Great  Spirit,"  answered  he,  promptly. 

"Which  Great  Spirit,"  I  continued,  "the  Good 
God  or  the  Bad  God?" 

"Oh,  neither  of  them,^^  answered  he;  "the  Great 
Spirit  that  made  the  world  is  dead  long  ago.  He 
could  not  possibly  have  lived  as  long  as  this." 

The  Indian  loves  and  venerates  the  Good  God,  not 


iw 


■4   ■ 


:j^*:o^.\  i!i^'. :-/.;;> 


'.!:^»,s\^:,.j.-h: 


-.,  .ti-i'M , ■:;>■:■- ^-;;' 


.  -Vj^t.  >. .  .  „jL 


r7,>7n^/^ ;, J'' "ji' '■•'"'*%•''  ■,*'V'T'''   ff^w/ 


OOOP   LOKD   I>JiLlVEK   ME. 


113 


Jw 


^f 


only  as  the  direct  author  of  all  the  good  that  comes 
to  his  life,  but  as  his  sole  refuge  and  defence  against 
the  malevolent  power  of  the  Bad  God.  He  speaks 
of  him  reverently  as  the  Great  Spirit,  and  feels  and 
acts  towards  him  as  an  affectionate  son  towards  a 
tender  father,  whose  devotion  and  loving  kindness 
are  assured,  and  who  requires  neither  prayers  nor 
thanks. 

His  feelings  and  actions  towards  the  Bad  God  are 
just  the  reverse.  Him,  he  hates  and  fears,  bribes  and 
coaxes,  prays  and  entreats.  He  subjects  himself  to 
horrible  tortures,  and  imposes  on  himself  the  most 
rigid  and  unheard  of  penances,  all  for  the  placation 
of  the  Bad  God,  whose  name  he  never  voluntarily 
mentions. 

The  Christian  prayer,  "  Good  Lord,  deliver  me,"  is 
paraphrased  by  the  Indian  —  "Please,  Bad  God,  let 
me  escape."  He  knows  that  the  Good  God  would 
"deliver"  him  if  he  could,  without  the  asking;  he 
knows  that  the  Bad  God  is  in  the  ascendancy,  or  he 
would  not  be  in  extremity;  so  his  appeal  and  prayer 
is  to  that  power  in  whose  hands  he  finds  himself, 
and  whose  intent  must  be  quickly  changed,  or  he  is 
surely  lost. 

However  crude,  the  Indian  religion  is  not  illogical. 

As,  in  making  medicine,  each  man  follows  a  gen- 
eral rule,  with  variations  and  modifications  supposed 
to  be  suited  to  his  particular  case,  so  the  ideas  of 
religion  herein  expressed  must  be  regarded  as  those 
general  to  all  persons  of  the  tribes. 

Each  individual  Indian  (priest  and  interpreter  be- 
tween himself  and  his  God),  while  believing  the 
general  principles,  adds  his  own  peculiar  shades  and 
modifications,  so  that  no  two  Indians,  even  of  the 


'^1; 


s 


A'i...,     .L'X'>>^  ■.'■V^'Jr'".- 


'-i,tL 


"  *'-"*3T'r'*'^.i " 


',VT  '>"*"  ■■r'.V'""'*":^'V't^'^^^'.^^'?'"'5'',5'"'''  ■''' 


■/ 


,S:>#'^ '.'■■■■*'■ 


114 


woman's  part  in  religion. 


same  tribe,  can  be  found  whose  religious  beliefs  are 
exactly  the  same.  To  get  at  these  modulated  shales 
of  belief  would  require  the  personal  interviewing  of 
each  individual  warrior,  and  even  that  process  would 
be  attended  with  little  success,  as  they  are  chary  of 
conversation  on  the  subject,  except  among  intimate 
friends  or  familiar  acquaintances  in  whom  they  have 
confidence. 

Unlike  their  civilized  sisters,  the  women  have  little 
to  do  with  religious  matters.  They  believe  in  the 
Good  and  Bad  Gods,  and  have  firm  faith  in  the  med- 
icine men,  but  all  minor  details  are  left  to  the  warrior- 
head  of  the  lodge.  What  he  tells  them  to  believe, 
they  believe;  what  he  directs  them  to  do,  is  done. 

The  beliefs  set  forth  in  this  chapter  constitute  the 
highest  form  of  religion  worked  out  for  themselves 
by  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  America. 

Through  the  influence  of  missionaries  a  few  indi- 
viduals may  have  come  to  believe  in  a  God  ruling 
both  this  and  the  future  life,  and  occasionally  a  man 
may  be  found  who  claims  to  have  so  far  overcome  the 
great  stumbling-block  to  Indian  proselytism,  as  to 
believe  that  the  Good  God  is  more  powerful  than 
the  Bad. 

These  cases  are,  however,  not  only  exceedingly 
rare,  but  a  few  pertinent  questions  will  show  that  the 
"  faith  in  them  "  is  assumed,  and  without  any  founda- 
tion in  conviction.  I  have  never  yet  seen  a  so-called 
Christian  Indian  who  did  not,  in  times  of  real  trouble 
or  affliction,  go  back  to  his  ancient  faith. 

From  this  spiritual  and  comparatively  exalted  form 
of  religious  belief  there  are  infinite  shades  of  down- 
ward gradation  through  all  the  forms  of  necromancy, 
divination,   conjuration,  —  through  the  man-tearing 


f 


■Ml  III  riiiii«  iiMiiHin  ii'li  f  1111  I 


;-iv;!it. 


■,-*i4'V-!4.i4,.v.^t'J>-^ 


■■^".(^-ia'L  ':-.'}'r:.--^",'..4-'illJ.i.j^j»';«yV-^-j'-: 


l. 


..V>:.. 


./ 


'"',T'-''U''"7'""^'"'^" 


THE   DIGGER. 


115 


4. 


wretches   of  the  Pacific   coast,   down  to  the  hazy, 
undefined  superstition  of  the  lowest  Digger.* 

It  is  a  curious  fact,  diflScult  to  account  for,  that  no 
tribe  of  North  American  Indians  is  addicted  to  "  Feti- 
chism "  in  any  of  its  forms.  Though  each  tribe  of 
Plains  Indians  has  its  "  tribal  medicine,"  and  each 
individual  Indian  his  special  and  secret  medicine, 
these  material  objects  are  not  worshipped.  They  are 
merely  the  "outward  and  visible  signs,"  embodying 
a  spiritual  or  superstitious  significance,  or  symbol- 
izing, in  some  mysterious  way,  the  objects  of  their 
reverence  and  fear. 

*  Tlie  term  "  Digger  "  was  applied  by  the  early  settlers  of  California 
to  a  miserable  class  of  Indians  of  the  lowest  type,  who  subsist  on  snakes, 
lizards,  grasshoppers,  and  such  edible  roots  as  they  can  "  dig  "  from  the 
ground  witli  short  pointed  sticks,  always  carried  in  the  liand  ready  for 
use.    They  are  of  several  different  tribes,  Utes,  Sboshones,  etc. 


t 


."-n 


i^-;.?:^..-^.- 


VJi  n    w 


■kV 


CHAPTER  yn. 

THE   MEDICINE   CHIEF  —  HIS   GREAT  POWER  AND  IN- 
FLUENCE—  AN  OFFICE  WON  BY  RECKLESS  DARING. 

The  Medicine  Chief  —  His  Power  and  Standing  in  the  Tribe  —  How  the 
Office  is  Won  —  Pi-oving  His  Own  Medicine  —  A  First-Class  Aristo- 
crat —  The  Idol  of  the  Squaws  —  An  Indian  Physician  —  His  know- 
ledge of  Herbs  —  No  Cure  no  Pay  —  A  Pandemonium  of  Howls  — 
Incantations  Over  the  Sick  —  A  Remedy  Woree  than  the  Disease  -^ 
Heroic  Treatment  —  My  Reception  in  an  Indian  Camp  —  Black, 
Beady  Eyes  —  An  Aspirant  for  Fame  —  Sitting  Bull  —  Medicine 
Arrow  —  A  Favorite  of  Fortune  —  The  Most  Remarkable  Chief  of  Hi« 
Time  —  His  Famous  Aitows  —  An'ows  for  Ponies  and  Ponies  for 
Rum  —  End  of  a  Strange  Career  —  Splendid  Types  of  Courage  — 
The  Charge  on  Forsythe's  Rifle  Pits  —  Indian  Quacks. 

)ROM  the  lowest  form  of  FetirMsm  to  the 
Church  of  Christ,  there  hnn  been  no 
religion  without  its  priests. 

The  faint  glimmer  of  a  spark  of  relig- 
ious sentiment  is  no  sooner  awakened 
in  the  breast  of  the  savage,  than  there 
immediately  appears  one  "  clothed  with 
authority  "  to  tell  him  all  about  it. 
Priestcraft  has  been  in  all  ages  the 
strongest  of  earthly  powers,  and  man  is  so  constituted 
that  it  will  probably  remain  so  until  "time  shall  be 
no  more." 

In  the  preceding  chapter  I  have  described  the 
religious  belief  of  the  Indian,  and  gone  with  him 
through  the  ordinary  routine  of  his  private  devotions. 
But  though  each  warrior  head  of  a  lodge  is  the 

116 


iir 


r-*Ji*i;>-««^'*j;i.r^*^'jEjtj'ii>>,ft^^^ 


■Jr',.'f">»..\t;,5j«=.Cft 


^< 


'•,t\\:f--'y. 


,-?■ 


.*-.'.1£!E:1?21 


iir 


THE   MEDICINE   CHIEF. 


117 


priest  for  himself  and  family,  there  is  in  each  tribe  a 
"Medicine  Chief,"  whose  word,  in  spikitual  aflairs,  is 
all-powerful.  He  is  necessarily  a  man  of  strongly 
marked  character,  with  brains,  dignity,  and  knowl- 
edge of  men.  He  is  not  necessarily  a  chief  by  birth, 
nor  even  the  head  of  a  band,  though  his  position  as 
Medicine  Chief  always  gives  him  a  following. 

His  sacerdotal  dignity  brings  no  immunity  from  the 
dangers  of  war.  On  the  contrary,  the  fighting  force 
of  the  tribe  never  takes  the  field  without  his  presence. 
In  battle,  his  are  the  most  reckless  dashes  on  the 
enemy,  for,  to  prove  to  his  flock  the  efficacy  of  his 
medicine,  he  must  show  the  perfect  safety  it  affords 
him  even  in  the  midst  of  the  greatest  dangers.  He 
claims  to  have  power  to  overcome  the  devices  of  the 
Bad  God,  and  his  standing  amongst  his  people 
depends  on  the  ease  and  certainty  with  which  he 
makes  his  claim  good. 

The  reduction  of  the  power  of  the  head  chief  and 
the  "subsequent  breaking  up  of  the  tribe  into  small 
bands  has  reduced  the  temporal  standing  of  the 
medicine  chief,  and  may  have  had  some  little  effect 
towards  diminishing  his  priestly  authority;  but  the 
religious  sentiment  is  so  strongly  implanted  in  the 
Indian  nature,  that  he  must  always  be  the  man  of  his 
tribe  most  worthy  of  consideration. 

Formerly  he  relied  upon  his  influence  with  the  head 
chief  for  prompt  punishment  of  any  contempt  or  vio- 
lation of  his  orders.  Now  their  respect  and  obedience 
depend  on  the  estimation  in  which  he  is  held  by  his 
people,  and  on  their  religious  training  and  enthusiasm. 

The  Indian  has  no  Sabbath  or  Sunday ;  no  regular 
time  is  set  apart  for  the  ordinary  duties  of  religion. 
The  Nez  Percys,  and  one  or  two  other  small  frag- 


{ 


m     ^ 

"9 

1   ] 

^X';w*^^*-'' 


'i^*'i-yr.^'rt;--i-*\\y^\*;f'^-\i'^r;-\^f^\-i'*^^*^  ■rp-y-^.^r-^rv 


■r^:..'^p'^fy^_y_^.*<,f;i•2^yJ■■:^^. 


'_'^f"' 


■  / 

/ 


118 


PRiiST  AND  PHYSICIAN". 


ments  of  tribes,  observe  Sunday  as  a  church  day,  and 
have  a  form  of  worship,  corrupted  from  that  taught 
them  by  Roman  Catholic  priests  long  years  ago ;  but 
among  the  Plains  Indians  the  priest  is  not  expected 
at  ordinary  times  to  hold  any  meeting  for  worship,  or 
to  perform  any  ceremonies. 

He  has  one  or  more  wives,  a  fine  herd  of  ponies, 
for  he  is  always  rich,  and  lives  as  do  the  other  Indians. 
He  has  no  social  intercourse  with  the  commons  of  the 
tribe,  never  entering  (unless  in  sickness)  any  lodge 
except  that  of  the  chief  or  head  men,  and  permitting 
no  inferior  warrior  to  enter  his  lodge,  except  on  busi- 
ness. He  maintains  a  grave  and  dignified  demeanor, 
suited  to  his  sacerdotal  office  and  functions.  He  is  a 
great  favorite  with  the  women  of  the  tribe,  all  of 
whom  have  free  access  to  his  lodge,  and  to  them  he 
owes  something  of  his  power  over  the  husbands.  He 
is  the  recipient  of  constant  offerings,  nothing  specially 
nice  being  cooked  in  any  lodge  that  the  women  do  not 
bring  him  a  share  of  it. 

Besides  being  the  chief  priest,  he  is  also  the  physi- 
cian of  the  tribe.  This  requires  no  special  knowledge 
of  the  healing  art,  for  as  all  disease  is  only  a  manifes- 
tation of  the  presence  of  the  Bad  God,  if  "He"  can 
be  exorcised  by  the  spiritual  power  of  the  priest,  the 
patient  will  get  well  at  once. 

Almost  all  Indians  have  some  rude  knowledge  of 
herbs  and  simples  in  the  treatment  of  wounds,  so 
that  the  medicine  chief  is  only  called  in  sickness,  and 
in  extreme  cases.  He  is  paid  only  in  case  the  patient 
recovers,  a  rule  which  it  might  be  well  to  adopt  in 
civilized  life. 

The  exorcism  of  the  evil  one  is  accomplished  by 
incantation. 


•T 


I  -»:.i'  iMj  ■i:V'*ij(?*i-'.i'  '.s-\ 


7((»W|'Y  "•'';,»»'  " 


r 


EXOKCISM   OF   SPIRITS. 


119 


In  each  tribe  and  band  there  are  more  or  less  old 
women  who  do  the  howling  in  all  oases  of  sickness, 
and  who  stand  only  a  little  lower  than  the  priest  in 
power  over  the  Bad  God.  These  are  immediately  sent 
for  in  any  alarming  illness,  and  whether  the  patient  is 
dying  of  consumption,  or  suffering  from  an  acute 
attack  of  cholera  morbus,  the  treatment  is  the  same. 
Howls,  only  howlsj  mo^rt  doleful  and  lugubrious.  As 
the  patient  gets  worse,  the  women  of  the  lodge  "  lift 
up  their  voices  "  and  howl  in  chorus ;  then  the  women 
of  other  lodges  come  around  and  join  the  howl,  until 
the  whole  camp  is  a  pandemonium  of  howls.  If  all 
this  does  no  good,  the  medicine  chief  is  sent  for.  He 
mutters  incantations,  performs  some  mysterious  cere- 
monies, and  finally  putting  a  tom-tom  into  the  hands 
of  a  lusty  young  acolyte,  has  it  beaten  with  all  force 
immediately  over  th^  head  of  the  patient.  This  treat- 
ment generally  very  promptly  finishes  the  matter  one 
way  or  the  other.  • 

The  Indians  have  an  idea  that  strangers,  particular- 
ly A'hite  strangers,  are  ofttimes  accompanied  by  evil 
spirits.  Of  these  they  have  great  dread,  as  creating 
and  delighting  in  mischief.  One  of  the  duties  of  the 
medicine  chief  is  to  exorcise  these  spirits.  I  have 
sometimes  ridden  into  or  through  a  camp  where  I  was 
unknown  or  unexpected,  to  be  confronted  b}'^  a  tall, 
half-naked  savage,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  cir- 
cle of  lodges,  and  yelling  in  a  sing-song,  nasal  tone, 
a  string  of  unintelligible  words. 

At  the  first  sound  of  his  cry,  the  women  and  chil- 
dren huddle  into  their  lodges,  and  in  a  moment  no 
evidence  of  life  can  be  seen,  except  the  lank  figure  of 
the  priest,  the  black,  beady  eyes  of  the  occupants  of 
the  lodges,  as  they  watch  the  new-comers  through  the 


i 


1 


M 


m 


* 


"I 


'"f. ''Vi' '  '"<^".~>",''''^.' '■^^■'T,/'"?  .v.^^j*^.  i.'*' >  ^1  r '3'-' 'rt^'    ■'  V!^^^ "^7^- 


120 


MEDICINE   AKKOW. 


partially  closed  doors,  and  the  half-famishsd  curs  that 
sniff  and  yelp  around. 

The  position  or  office  of  medicine  chief  is  not 
hereditary  (though  there  are  a  few  instances  where  a 
father  and  eon  have  held  it),  and  is  not  conferred  by 
chief  or  council.  A  man  gains  it  by  general,  and  not 
unfrequently,  tacit  consent  of  the  peojDle  of  the  tribe. 

The  constant  thought  of  every  Indian  man  or 
woman  is,  "How  shall  I  evade  or  counteract  the 
power  of  the  Bad  God?" 

The  medicine  chief  is  dead;  the  tribe  in  mourn- 
ing. A  warrior  comes  forward  who  says,  "  I  have 
found  the  proper  'medicine.'  I  set  at  naught  the 
power  of  the  Bad  God." 

In  time  of  war  every  opportunity  is  given  him  to 
prove  his  assertion.  Every  risk  that  a  man  can  run 
he  has  to  take.  Time  and  again  he  must  put  himself 
in  the  "  imminent  deadly  breach,"  and  his  "  hair- 
breadth 'scapes "  must  be  so  numerous  and  so  mar- 
vellous as  to  be  accounted  for  in  no  other  wav  than 
that  his  medicine  is  perfect.  That  point  once  con- 
ceded beyond  doubt  or  cavil,  and  his  character  and 
standing  being  satisfactory,  he  glides  into  the  coveted 
position  by  general  acquiescence. 

When  the  native  honors  and  dignity  of  hereditary 
chief  are  united  with  the  acquired  honor,  military 
renown  and  spiritual  power  of  the  medicine  chief,  the 
result  is  an  individual  most  dangerous,  most  potent 
for  good  or  bad.  Such  an  one  was  Black  Hawk,  and 
such  an  one  is  Sitting  Bull.  Other  than  the  last 
named  (of  whose  personal  history  little  is  known) 
the  medicine  chief  most  renowned  of  late  years  for  his 
power  over  the  Bad  God  was  the  Oheyenne,  Medicine 
Arrow  (Min-vitz-in-nan-epivomanist) . 


r 


^fff^: 


?      ; 


: 


A  FAMOUS   DRUXKARD. 


121 


His  father  was  medicine  chief  before  him.  Early 
in  life  the  young  man  had  gained  such  renown  for  his 
wonderful  daring  and  marvellous  escapes  from  appar- 
ently certain  death,  that  when  the  father  died  he  had 
no  competitor  for  the  vacant  place.' 

He  ascribed  his  wonderful  immunity  from  wounds 
and  sickness  to  his  discovery  of  the  secret  of  making 
an  arrow  so  potent  in  its  charm  against  the  "evil  one," 
that  no  warrior  who  carried  one  could  ever  be  hurt  in 
any  way. 

Fortune  favored  him,  and  in  the  later  years  of  his 
life,  he  found  a  ready  sale  in  the  spring,  at  a  pony 
each,  for  all  the  arrows  he  could  make  during  the 
winter.  The  fame  of  his  arrows  extended  to  all  the 
tribes  of  the  Plains;  Sioux,  ^"^orthern  Cheyennes, 
Pawnees,  all  became  his  customers,  and  contended 
for  the  privilege  of  buying  one  of  the  life-preserving 
arrows. 

More  than  any  Indian  on  this  continent  since  Black 
IIlv.  k.  he  had  the  power  to  have  united  tribes,  hostile 
to    •    h  other,  in  one  grand  crusade  against  the  whites. 

Fu.  i.nately  for  them,  and  for  the  Indians,  he  was  a 
confirmed  drunkard.  The  ponies  gained  so  easily  in 
spring  and  summer,  were  drunk  up  in  autumn  and 
winter.  He  would  give  a  pony  for  a  gallon,  or  if 
specially  thirsty,  even  for  a  bottle  of  whiskey.  On 
those  terms  he,  of  course,  always  got  what  he  wanted. 

lie  died  on  Tongue  River  in  1874,  retaining  to  the 
et  d  (in  spite  of  his  drunkenness)  more  repute  for 
spiritual  powei*,  and  more  influence  over  the  Plains 
tribes,  than  any  Indian  before  or  since. 

A  vacancy  in  the  office  of  medicine  chief  is  not 

necessarily  or  even  usually  filled  at  once. 

The  Indian  sets  much  store  by  his  life,  and  a  posi* 

9 


v<;. 


S^i  Jiu,\iii 


iai< 


■,siu- 


Mi 


122 


FAITH   TO   THE   DEATH. 


tion  reached  and  retained  only  by  most  rceldess 
exposure  to  an  endless  series  of  dangers,  has  attrac- 
tions for  few  except  the  most  ambitious,  or  those  who 
really  believe  in  themselves  or  their  powers. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  earnest  effort  made  by 
each  individual  warrior  to  discover  the  proper  secret 
ingredient  of  his  medicine.  Should  the  Indian  have 
a  "run  of  bad  luck,"  he  accounts  for  it  at  once; 
his  special  ingredient  is  not  good.  He  therefore  tries 
some  other,  and  keeps  trying  until  his  luck  changes, 
when  he  has,  of  course,  found  the  proper  thing  at  last. 
The  Indian  is  in  solid  earnest,  and  childish  as  all  this 
appears  to  us,  he  has  firm  faith  in  himself  and  his 
medicine.  The  medicine  that  has  enabled  a  warrior 
to  pass  unscathed  through  all  the  dangers  of  the  road 
to  the  position  of  medicine  chief,  must  be  perfect,  and 
the  faith  in  it  of  its  fortunate  possessor  is  supreme. 

The  medicine  chief  is  not  an  impostor  or  hypo- 
crlle.  In  1868  when  Forsyth's  little  band,  buried 
in  their  rifle  pits,  were  holding  at  bay  an  overwhelm- 
ing force  of  red-skins,  a  Cheyenne  medicine  man, 
ambitious  to  be  medicine  chief,  and  firmly  believing 
in  the  eflScacy  of  his  medicine,  dashed  atone  almost 
inio  the  lines  of  the  whites.  His  medicine  failed  him 
at  the  critical  moment,  for  he  was  shot  and  killed. 

Any  specially  remarkable  and  long  continued  run 
of  good  luck  is  attributed  at  once  to  the  medicine  of 
the  fortunate  warrior.  Others  begin  to  look  upon 
him  as  a  medicine  man,  and  not  to  be  outdone  in 
faith,  he  firmly  believes  it  himself.  These  men  drop 
into  the  practice  of  medicine,  and  become  healers 
of  the  sick  by  the  same  gradual  process,  already 
described,  and  under  the  influence  of  the  same  belief 
in  the  eflSciency  of  their  medicine. 


r"! 


f 


'■   r« 


i»' 


'■   r» 


t 


;i'--t|^.-?',-v?'r-:i'(-i-n%vi-r-^:T' 


HUMBUGGERY. 


123 


Recollect,  "good  medicine"  does  not  argue  any 
special  preference  of  the  Good  God  (who  is  already 
as  good  and  kind  to  all  Indians  as  he  can  be)  j  it 
shows  power  over  the  Bad  God  —  or  devil. 

All  disease  is  simply  the  manifestation  of  the 
presence  and  power  of  the  devil. 

An  unfortunate  Indian  is  stretched  upon  a  bed  of 
sickness,  tortured  with  fever,  or  racked  with  rheuma- 
tism. The  devil  has  him  in  his  power.  "What  more 
natural  than  to  send  for  the  warrior  of  the  tribe,  whose 
medicine  is  known  to  be  the  most  efficacious  diarm 
against  the  power  of  the  evil  one? 

And  just  here  is  w^here  the  hypocrisy  and  deceit 
come  in.  "While  he  may  really  believe  in  the  power 
of  his  medicine,  he  has  sufflicient  knewledge  of  human 
nature  to  be  aware  that  its  effect  on  the  patient 
depends  somewhat  on  the  mental  condition  of  the 
latter.  Like  the  civilized  doctor  who  gives  a  bread 
pill  when  medicine  is  not  really  necessary,  or  like  the 
French  surgeon,  who  cut  off  the  leg  of  a  dying  man 
"to  amuse  him,"  the  ordinary  Indian  doctor  resorts 
to  every  humbuggery  that  he  can  invent. 

Socially  and  pecuniarily  the  office  of  medicine  man 
is  a  good  one,  and  when  from  lack  of  success  with 
his  patients,  he  has  lost  faith  in  the  power  of  his  own 
medicine,  he  carefully  hides  the  knowledge  in  his  own 
heart,  and  keeps  up  appearances  by  increase  of  noise 
and  mystery,  and  redoubled  activity  in  "  blowing " 
about  his  powers,  advertising  himself. 

The  power  of  faith  can  be  no  more  strongly  exem- 
plified in  any  race  or  sect  than  is  manifested  among 
these  ignorant  people. 

The  N^ez  Perces  are  a  superior  race  of  Indians,  and 
their  Chief,  Joseph,  a  man  of  courage,  intelligence, 


■m 


(-■■   '  ■  i'-. 


iWA^-/£j^'''tS:< 


^^1 


i^|^^^^'# 


124 


JOSEPH'S  BABY. 


quick  perception,  and  other  qualities  sufficient  to  make 
him  much  above  the  average  man,  either  white  or  red. 

When  Joseph  and  his  band  were  held  as  prisoners 
of  war  at  Fort  Leavenworth,  his  favorite  child,  about 
a  year  old,  was  seriously  ill.  Though  he  and  his 
band  claimed  to  be  Roman  Catholics,  and  though 
they  had  the  attendance  of  white  physicians,  as  able 
as  the  country  affords,  when  the  latter  pronounced 
the  case  critical,  their  services  were  dispensed  with, 
and  the  medicine  chief  (who  is  also  priest  of  the 
tribe)  was  called  in.  All  night  long  a  tom-tom  was 
beaten  immediately  over  the  head  of  the  poor  baby; 
this  music  accompanied  by  the  sing-song  incantations 
of  the  priest  and  the  mournful  1  owls  of  half  a  dozen 
old  women.  Joseph's  good  judgment  was  demon- 
strated, whatever  we  may  think  of  his  humanity.  The 
child  got  well , 

The  medi'^ine  chief  of  the  Plains  tribes  is  an 
essentially  different  person  from  the  medicine  men  of 
the  Pacific  coast,  or  those  most  commonly  described 
by  writers  on  the  North  American  Indian.  He  does 
not  descend  to  the  tearing  and  eating  of  human  flesh, 
or  other  horrible  practices  designed  to  strike  terror 
into  the  beholders.  He  ignores  posturing  dances,  or 
conjuring  tricks,  and  r^^rely  has  recourse  even  to 
excess  of  absurdity  in  dress.  His  influence  is  a  moral 
one,  founded  on  belief  in  himself  and  knowledge  of 
human  nature,  and  his  means  are  (with  a  difference) 
very  similar  to  those  practised  by  civilized  doctors  and 
ministers.  He  gives  no  drugs,  but  he  beats  his  tom- 
tom; he  makes  no  prayers,  but  sings  his  incantation. 

He  is  the  outgrowth,  the  expounder  and  interpreter 
of  that  higher  order  of  religfion  of  which  I  have  jriven 
account. 


''A^     I 


>«; 


.^..^JP 


:t 


^     f 


i 


}■ 


* 


> 


■M 


'H  1, 


4 


,.,    ypf'i-rer  ;yTv^,;;T,.-;^c  r..;^  v,.-V  7  vr" 


CONJURORS. 


125 


But  by  far  the  largest  portion  of  the  Indians  arc  not 
on  that  higher  plane  of  religious  belief.  Just  as  our 
ignorant  communities  select  or  accept  the  spiritual 
ministrations  of  some  self-sufficient  donkey,  as  ignor- 
ant, but  more  brazen  than  themselves,  so  most  of  the 
Indians  put  their  faith  in  some  one  of  the  number  of 
pretenders  who  eagerly  thrust  themselves  forward. 

From  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  human  nature  is  the 
same.  Be  he  civilized  or  be  he  savage,  man  delights 
in  being  humbugged,  and  any  pretender  to  mysteries, 
either  medical  or  spiritual,  is  sure  to  find  some  one 
to  believ^e  him. 

In  the  Indian  tribes  can  be  found  all  grades  of 
medicine  men,  from  the  chief,  with  the  firmest  faith  in 
himself  and  his  medicine,  to  the  lowest  conjuror.  With- 
out character  or  standing  as  a  warrior,  and  who  relies, 
like  the  fortune-teller  of  civilized  life,  on  hocus-pocus, 
and  his  skilful  execution  of  a  few  stale  tricks  of  leger- 
demain. All  these  quacks,  both  white  and  red,  make 
a  living,  or  they  would  not  follow  the  trade. 


.i..,.;..iii< 


:v;ii<i- 


•.-i,J!i-.j^*,- 


■i-Siy-'if* 


w» 


mmmm^^^'^^^^^ 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


SECRET     EITES     AND     RELIGIOUS     CEREMONIES  —  AN 
INDIAN   MYSTERY — THE    SACRED    "SOMETHING." 


The  Sacred  Conclave  —  How  One  of  My  Officers  Gained  Admittance  — 
What  lie  Saw  There  —  Curious  Solemnities  —  Sacred  Mysteries  — 
The  Medicine  Pipe  —  How  an  Indian  Smokes  a  Cigar  —  A  Blazing 
Stub  —  How  the  Pipe  is  Used  for  Casting  Lots  —  How  the  Fatal 
Signal  is  Determined  —  Secret  Societies,  Pass  Words,  and  Grips  — 
Medicine  Arrow's  Great  Influence  —  The  Sacred  "Something"  — 
What  is  it  ?  —  An  Object  of  Awe  and  Veneration  —  Capture  of  the 
Sacred  Symbol  by  the  Pawnees  —  A  Pious  Fraud  —  The  Utes  and  the 
Squat  Stone  —  Its  Capture  by  a  Hostile  Tribe  —  Their  Flight  With  It  — 
Consternation  at  its  Loss  —  Wild  Pursuit  and  Vengeance  —  Burial  of 
tlie  Sacred  Insignia  —  The  Lost  Treasure  —  Sitting  Bull's  "Medicine." 

'HOUGH,  with  all  his  love  and  reverence 
for  the  Good  God,  the  Indian  gives 
Him  no  prayers,  praise  or  thanks,  he 
yet  worships  Him  after  a  manner  of 
his  own. 

There  are  no  days  or  stated  times 
set  apart  for  this  duty  as  with  us.  It 
is  a  purely  voluntary  act,  and  so  far  as  I 
can  understand,  very  much  ^ike  the  witty 
definition  of  gratitude,  "  a  lively  sense  of  favors  to 
come;"  and  a  sort  of  cozenage  to  procure  information. 
At  intervals  more  or  less  prolonged,  once  a  month, 
or  once  in  six  months,  the  chief  will  call  such  a  meet- 
ing.   It  is  a  conclave,  no  person  being  permitted  to 

126 


J 


.. 


I';?^;"-  \^^./\-^^:^--^i}'J^7^^''^'7p.  ^,y  ■'•»■''  !•■  N~vt  ;r7'  :,-'^'  ^ -•■    f->  '*"'■■  '  ^;  •  »■ 


;,.         .-..^,-.^, 


SACRED   MYSTERIES. 


127 


V 


l;- 


be  present  except  the  chief,  the  medicine  man,  and 
the  old  or  most  trusted  warriors  of  the  band. 

A  short  time  ago  a  young  officer  of  my  post  went 
to  call  on  a  chief  of  the  Cheyennes,  encamped  near 
us,  and,  as  is  customary  and  proper,  entered  the  teepe 
without  knock  or  signal.  To  his  astonishment  he 
found  a  ceremony  in  progress.  Somewhat  discon- 
certed he  asked  the  chief  if  he  must  withdraw,  and 
received  permission  to  "  stay  a  little  while."  In  that 
"little  while"  he  made  the  best  possible  use  of  his 
eyes,  and  reports  as  follows  : 

Everything  of  furniture,  bedding,  cooking-utensils, 
&c.,  had  1)een  removed  from  the  lodge,  which  had  evi- 
dently also  undergone  a  thoi-ough  cleaning.  Around 
the  circumference  of  the  lodge,  in  a  solemn  circle,  sat 
the  old  men  and  warriors.  In  the  centre  two  forked 
sticks  had  been  planted  in  the  ground,  about  six  feet 
apart,  and  from  a  pole,  laid  across,  was  suspended  an 
iron  pot,  filled  with  meat,  rice,  &c.,  &c.  Under  the 
pot  was  a  fire,  and  at  the  base  of  each  of  the  forks  was 
another  smaller  fire.  From  one  fork  to  the  other,  on 
the  side  furthest  from  the  door  of  the  lodge,  was  a 
wide  semi-circle  of  buffalo  chips,  which  had  been 
plentifully  sprinkled  with  powdered  charcoal.  Inside 
this  semi-circle  was  a  rectangle  of  about  twenty  by 
thirty  inches  of  fine  white  sand,  divided  into  two  equal 
rectangles  by  a  strip  of  black  charcoal,  two  inches 
wide.  In  one  of  these  rectangles  was  the  figure  of  a 
horse  in  black,  in  the  other  a  similar  figure  in  red. 
Between  the  outer  side  of  the  rectangles  and  tho 
inner  side  of  the  semi-circle  of  buffalo  chips,  was 
another  small  fire. 

The  ceremonies,  which  had  been  suspended  on  tho 
entrance  of  the  lieutenant,  were  now  continued.     The 


m 


,i{5^> 


RHPP 


^ 


aapp» 


^^|K7?^:TJ^^!^P^J^ 


128 


THE   MEDICINE   PIPE. 


medicine  man  took  from  a  pouch  a  small  qnantit}'  of 
dried  leaves  and  sprinkled  a  pinch  on  each  fire,  causing 
a  pungent,  aromatic  odor,  stronger  than  incense. 

The  medicine  pipe  Avas  then  filled  and  lighted  by 
the  medicine  man,  who,  holding  it  in  both  hands,  and 
pointing  it  now  up,  now  down,  ejected  puff  after  pulf 
u^iward,  downward,  laterally,  over  tlie  fires,  over  the 
pot,  over  the  images  of  horses,  and  in  every  direction, 
as  if  to  envelop  everything  w^ithin  its  potent  influence. 

The  chief  then  took  the  i)ipe  and  went  through  a 
similar  performance.  He  then  informed  the  lieuten- 
ant that  they  were  worshipping  the  Good  God,  and 
trying  to  find  out  from  him  whether  they  were  going 
to  have  plenty  of  ponies  this  year  —  and  so  dismissed 
him.  This  is  the  only  instance  within  my  knowledge 
of  a  white  man's  being  permitted  to  have  even  a  i)cep 
at  these  sacred  mysteries. 

The  interpreter  of  this  post  (Cantonment,  Indian 
Territory),  a  white  man  married  to  a  Cheyenne 
woman,  tells  me  that  they  hold  these  meetings  at 
irregular  intervals.  He  has  never  attended  one,  only 
a  special  few  even  of  the  Indians  themselves  being 
permitted  to  be  present. 

The  points  of  resemblance  between  this  and  some 
ceremonies  of  the  Jews,  Greeks,  Romans,  indeed,  of 
almost  all  comparatively  primitive  nations,  are  worthy 
of  note.  The  burnt-offering  in  the  cooked  food,  the 
fires,  the  images  of  the  things  wished  for,  the  incense, 
all  indicate  a  common  and  curious  instinct  of  man. 

How  the  divine  intention  i«  expressed  to  the  Indian 
I  am  unable  to  ascertain.  In  my  description  of  indi- 
vidual medicine-making  I  have  indicated  the  mode  of 
divination,  and  the  method  m  this  case  is  presumably 
much  the  same. 


■■'i 


r 


I 


" 


• 


i:W' '■■'gill'! ^■^i.-l  f  ■■'Mm-m^  %^^.^  'm§^^^^^^^^^^^ 


:K^r:; 


^•*x 


.•5^n 


pSW!^^P**"W 


12;  • 


JSSSSm 


'1',  -      V 


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I 

1,, 


trving  (o  li' 


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cere. 
almosL 
of  note. 

&';         \ 

ail  iiiM:-:  • 


■p..  rii,;^   'n 


>:.    'VZ^.    UjI\ 


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iiiii 


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4i^.. 


I»'5^f!  -A 


■¥• 


Rec  Clojos  War  Bonnet .  Douglass  Tobacco  PoijcH   PiPEb  &c. 


?hO''GSRAPHE0     and    painted    from    the     jPiOiNAl   objects    EXPRES^Lt    cQP     ''Hij   ACT' 


II      WI1H    >    M  r  .Vli  TltN 


■'■HI.IMHh   l*C       HAH   1^   'IM  11      I     «  »NN 


'>M 


I 

T 


"i<=-''r-''.  ■■"«'■"  -t" 


'■(.-•^i.s.i  ^■r':-'^.:^^^-!\ 


A  SOCIAL    SMOKE. 


129 


Smoking  is  always  a  ceremony. 

The  pipe  among  the  Indians  seems  to  be  a  some- 
what universal  sj'^mbol,  nothing  of  importance  being 
done  without  it.  Every  council,  conference,  religious 
ceremony,  gambling  bout,  dance,  or  ordinary  talk,  is 
opened  with  a  smoke,  but  though  excessively,  even 
pascionately,  fond  of  smoking,  I  have  never  yet  seen 
an  Indian  smoke  a  pipe  alone,  as  a  white  man  does. 

If  presented  with  a  cigar,  he  will,  if  possible,  hide 
it  away  until  he  retires  to  his  own  teepe,  when  it  will 
be  crumbled  up,  and  mixed  with  the  tobacco  in  his 
pouch.  When  forced  by  etiquette  to  smoke  it  at  once, 
his  efforts  in  that  direction  must  remind  every  smoker 
of  his  own  first  boyish  attempts.  The  strong  and 
rapid  pulls  customary  to  the  Indian  when  smoking  a 


pipe,  soon 


gets 


the 


cigar 


almost  ablaze,  and  then 


ensues  a  conflict,  satiety  and  nausea  on  the  one  side, 
avarice  on  the  other.  Avarice  always  wins,  the  Indian, 
though  it  may  be  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  smoking  as 
long  as  possible,  then  hiding  the  short  stump  for 
future  use. 

Possibly  habituated  to  it  by  the  circular  form  of  the 
lodge,  or  more  probably  for  greater  convenience  for 
general  conversation,  Indians,  even  out  of  doors, 
habitually  arrange  themselves  in  a  circle  when  dis- 
posed to  have  a  talk.  One  will  then  take  out  a  pipe, 
fill  and  light  it,  take  a  few  strong  puffs,  pass  it  to  the 
man  on  his  left,  who,  after  his  few  puffs,  passes  it  to 
the  man  on  Ids  left,  and  so  around  the  whole  circle. 
When  the  last  nian  has  had  his  smoke  the  pipe  is 
returned  to  the  starter,  not  as  is  natural,  by  handing 
it  direct  to  him  (for  the  last  man  and  the  first  are, 
probably,  sitting  side  by  side),  but  it  must  be  passed 
from  hand  to  hand  from  the  left  to  the  right,  around 


f/."' 


.'^^ 
"y 


•4'- 


4s 


.'1 1^ 


.^.' 


Sjppi^p^jwwwrww 


"«B 


pipPlfPPPPSpwp^ 


"'^■H'-'^ia;^^"^^-^^;'?*^'"  '■ "' 


130 


CASTING   LOTS. 


the  whole  circle,  before  it  can  again  be  started  on  its 
course  of  usefulness.  No  Indian  would  think  of  put- 
ting his  mouth  to  a  pi^DC  that  came  to  him  from  the 
left. 

Nor  does  the  Indian  smoke  like  an  American. 
After  a  few  strong  pulls,  to  get  the  pipe  well  started, 
and  of  which  the  smoke  is  naturally  ejected,  he  takes 
several  long  sucks,  carrying  the  smoke  into  his  lungs. 
When  his  whole  system  seems  saturated  with  smoke, 
he  i3asses  the  pipe,  and  for  a  minute  or  more  lets  the 
smoke  issue  lazily  from  his  mouth  and  nose. 

This  form  is  always  observed,  and  when  hunting, 
or  even  on  the  war-path,  when  one  wants  to  smoke, 
all  will  dismount,  seat  themselves  in  a  circle,  and  go 
through  the  regular  form. 

For  different  occasions  or  ceremonies  they  have 
different  pipes.  Thus  they  have  a  peace  pipe,  a  coun- 
cil pipe,  a  medicine  pipe,  and  a  pipe  for  common  use. 
Each  is  sacred  to  its  own  purpose,  and  while  no  Indian 
would  regale  himself  with  an  ordinary  smoke  out  of  a 
peace  or  council  pipe,  no  power  on  eaitli  would  force 
him  to  such  sacrilege  with  the  medicine  pipe. 

In  former  times  it  was  regarded  as  a  great  breach 
of  decorum,  so  near  an  insult  as  to  require  explana- 
tion, for  any  man  in  the  circle  to  fail  to  take  his  tui-n 
at  the  pipe.  Within  the  last  few  years,  however,  they 
have  met  so  many  white  men  who  either  did  not 
smoke,  or  who  declined  to  put  his  mouth  to  a  stem 
common  to  so  many  and  such  filthy  mouths,  that  they 
now  take  no  notice  of  it,  though  they  do  not  like  it. 

Some  of  these  tribes  use  the  pipe  for  the  selection  of 
a  man  for  a  special  or  dangerous  service,  "casting 
lots."  The  pipe  is.  filled,  lighted,  and  passed  from 
hand  to  hand  with  a  certain  regularity.     The  man  in 


# 


^  W'- 


THE   SACKED   THING. 


131 


^h 


whose  hands  it  goes  out  is  the  person  indicated  by 
the  medicine  for  the  service. 

In  all  my  large  experience  with  numbers  of  tribes 
of  Indians  I  have  never  yet  seen  a  squaw  smoke.  She 
is  never  permitted  to  take  active  part  in  any  religious 
ceremony,  and  the  most  ordinary  smoke  is  so  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  mysteries  of  medicine  that 
she  cannot  indulge  in  it. 

It  is  asserted  by  squaw  men,  and  others  in  position 
to  know,  that  almost  every  tribe  of  Indians  has  its 
secret  societies,  which  have  pass-words,  grips,  and 
signs  as  the  Masons,  Odd-Fellows,  etc.  I  have  nevei 
been  able  positively  to  ascertain  the  truth  or  falsity 
of  this  statement.  Most  of  the  Indians  deny  it,  but 
from  the  grim  silence  that  falls  upon  an  occasional 
old  head-man,  when  asked  about  it,  I  suspect  it  may 
be  true. 

Several  of  the  wild  tribes  have  a  mysterious 
material  something,  which  they  regard  as  the  Jews 
did  the  "  Ark  of  the  Covenant." 

The  Plains  Indians  are  in  no  sense  idol  worshippers, 
and  this  "  something,"  is  not  worshipped,  but  loved, 
venerated,  and  held  in  sacred  awe. 

The  "  thing  "  is  not  God,  but  it  is  the  means  by 
which  God  manifests  himself  to  his  people.  It  is  the 
seat  and  abiding-place  of  the  Good  God.  It  is  the 
centre  around  which  all  important  religious  ceremonies 
are  enacted.  Over  it  or  through  it,  the  Bad  God 
can  have  no  i)ower.  From  it  radiate  streams  of 
beneficent  influence.  In  camp  it  is  always  held  in 
the  careful  charge  of  the  head  chief.  It  is  carried 
in  war,  on  all  important  expeditions,  by  the  medicine 
chief. 

In  camp  on  good  days,  it  is  suspended,  wrapped  in 


:'/K 


-t>.,i 


■-4fli*«s..i;iw-:»  . 


,Kj^'.;  ,.j**-    V  .  •V-«^'-^-4._ 


:/.-4i  , 


^mwm^Wr'^9- 


fjfij;gf^j^^',inwi^ 


!'PP#P^fP"iP!|l?iP» 


132 


TTIIBAL   MEDICINE. 


its  covering  of  par-fleche,  and  carefully  concealed 
from  inquisitive  eyes,  before  the  door  of  the  chief, 
where  all  devout  Indians  can  see  the  complicated 
wrappings,  and  adore  the  mystery  it  represents. 

The  "thing"  itself  varies  in  each  tribe,  and  there 
is  no  general  or  comprehensive  term  by  which  it  is 
known  to  all.  I  have  heretofore  stated  that  each 
individual  warrior  has  for  use  in  his  private  devotions, 
or  in  making  his  medicine,  one  or  more  ingredients 
unknown  to  any  but  himself.  The  efficacy  of  his 
medicine  depends  on  his  keeping  inviolate  his  own 
secret.  These  unknown  ingredients,  the  special 
and  particular  medicine  of  the  individual,  are  always 
carried  in  a  little  bag  on  his  person,  and  are  buried 
with  him. 

The  "  tribal  medicine  '*  is  only  an  extension  of  the 
idea.  As  far  as  possible  each  tribe  does  all  in  its 
power  to  keep  to  itself  the  secret  of  its  medicine. 
"With  some  of  the  tribes,  as  the  Arrapahoes,  the 
"thing"  itself  is  a  secret,  and  as  the  obligation  of 
an  oath  (administered  according  to  their  forms)  is 
absolutely  sacred  with. Indians,  it  is  likely  to  remain  a 
secret  until  accident  or  its  capture  in  war  shall  dis- 
close it.  With  other  tribes,  as  the  Cheycniies,  the 
"  thing  "  is  known.  The  secret  in  this  case  is  in  the 
forms  and  ceremonies  with  which  the  "thing"  is 
constructed.  The  secret  is  still  a  secret  for  all  pur- 
poses of  efficacious  medicine. 

What  the  tribal  medicine  of  the  Cheyennes  was 
fifty  years  ago,  I  have  no  positive  knowledge,  though 
I  have  reason  to  believe  that  it  was  a  simple  bundle 
of  sage-brush;  but  after  "Medicine  Arrow"  had 
electrified  the  tribe  by  his  wonderful  daring  and  im- 
munity from  danger,  the  "  thing  "  was  changed,  and 


-■;  5- 
■  ill 


ho 


'■-  ifl  (fTi 


mWFWT^^^^'^W^ 


5P!IWf^??^'W^f^?W»SP^ 


■T 


!Ni  ■' 


v^vA^Ti':-;;   f  7  .^'' 


MAKING   THE   MEDICIXE   ARROWS. 


133 


thenceforward  was,  and  is  at  the  present  time,  a  bun- 
dle of  "  medicine  arrows,"  made  after  a  style  invented, 
and  with  ceremonies  inaugurated  by  that  great  chief. 
A  few  of  the  old  men  most  noted  for  wisdom  and 
piety  were  initiated  by  "Medicine  Arrow"  into  a 
secret  society  of  which  he  was  founder  and  chief. 
This  society  met  in  a  lodge  erected  outside  of  the 
camp.  It  was  surrounded  at  a  considerable  distance 
by  a  chain  of  trusty  sentinels.  During  these  meet- 
ings the  women  and  children  of  the  camp  were 
required  to  keep  within  their  lodges,  and  maintain  the 
most  profound  silence.  The  horses  were  sent  far  out 
of  hearing,  even  the  dogs  were  tied  up  and  kept  quiet. 
Not  a  sound  must  disturb  the  awful  solemnities. 
With  ceremonies  which  all  were  solemnly  sworn  never 
to  divulge,  the  arrows  were  matie.  They  were  then 
tied  tightly  in  a  bundle,  wi'appcd  in  skins,  and  depos- 
ited in  a  "  par-fleche,"  —  a  small  trunk  made  of  stiff 
raw-hide. 

Every  one  knows  what  is  in  the  "par-fleche,"  but 
no  man,  other  than  those  present  at  their  making, 
must  ever  look  upon  them. 

This  bundle  of  arrows  is  the  medicine  of  the 
tribe.  It  is  the  visible  manifestation  of  the  invis- 
ible God.  Through  and  by  means  of  it  the  favors 
and  protection  of  God  are  bestowed  upon  the  peo- 
ple. After  some  great  disaster  of  war  or  sickness, 
another  meeting  is  called,  and  the  arrows  renewed 
with  the  same  ceremonies,  but  no  amount  of  suflering 
or  ten'ible  disaster  could  convince  a  Cheyenne  that 
that  bundle  is  not  the  source  from  which  emanates  to 
him  all  Divine  beneficence. 

Some  years  ago  a  band  of  Pawnees  pounced  upon 
a  camp  of  Cheyenncs,  in  which  was  the  precious  buii- 


'^1-^' 


•I 

f 


''^1 


wmm 


pppnpiiipipiiipi 


mmmmfi^ 


M- 


134 


A  PIOUS  FRAUD. 


.'tr 


die.  In  the  "saiive  qui  pent"  which  followed,  the 
"  medicine  arrows "  were  abandoned  and  captured. 
The  tribe  was  in  consternation  and  mourning.  "Medi- 
cine Arrow  "  was  then  alive  and  at  the  summit  of  his 
power  and  influence.  He  could  easily  have  made 
another  bundle,  but  he  persuaded  his  people  that 
unless  that  special  bundle  was^ recovered,  all  the  fiivor 
of  God  would  thenceforward  be  transferred  to  their 
enemies.  Runners  were  dispatched  to  the  Pawnees, 
and,  after  long  haggling,  the  Holy  Bundle  was  re- 
deemed, at  the  price  of  three  hundred  ponies.  These 
were  furnished  by  voluntary  contribution,  some  iiimi- 
lies  almost  impoverishing  themselves,  again  to  secure 
to  their  tribe  the  favor  of  God. 

The  arrows  sold  by  "  Medicine  Arrow  "  in  the  latter 
years  of  his  life,  to  secure  the  means  for  a  continual 
drunk,  were  not,  of  course,  those  made  and  conse- 
crated with  the  ceremonies  spoken  of.  They  were 
made  by  himself  in  his  half  sober  moments,  and  his 
sale  of  them  as  "  medicine  arrows "  was  a  pious 
fraud. 

What  constitutes  the  medicine  of  the  Arrapahoes 
is  known  to  no  man  except  the  initiated  few.  The 
"  par-fleche "  in  which  it  is  kept  is  paraded  on  all 
occasions  of  ceremony.  It  is  hung  up,  where  all  may 
see  the  elaborately  painted  outside,  but  to  touch  or 
look  into  it  would  be  a  sacrilege  worthy  of  immediate 
death. 

The  medicine  of  the  Utes  was  a  little  squat  stone 
figure,  of  Aztec  or  Toltec  origin,  and  which  the  Utes 
probably  obtained  from  the  Navahocs  or  Apaches. 
There  is  a  story  among  the  Arrapahoes  that  a  few 
years  ago  a  small  war  party  of  that  tribe  penetrated 
some  distance  into  the  Ute  country,  and  surprised 


v-t- 


s.^^^j-f;-r;*r'' 


^'v 


i 


THE  LOST   TREASURE. 


135 


and  plundered  a  camp,  capturing  this  stone  figure. 
They  retreated  with  all  possible  expedition,  but  were 
so  closely  pursued  by  an  overwhelming  force  of  Utes, 
that  they  had  to  disperse  to  hide  their  trail.  Most  of 
them  escaped,  but  some  were  killed,  among  them  the 
warrior  who  had  the  medicine,  but  the  Utes  did  not 
recover  it.  The  presumption  is  that  when  so  closely 
pressed  in  the  mountains  that  he  had  to  abandon  his 
horse,  he  hid  or  buried  his  treasure,  for  no  one  has 
ever  heard  of  it  since.  The  Utes  are  said  to  attribute 
all  their  troubles  of  late  years  to  the  loss  of  their 
medicine,  and  the  finder  of  it  now  would  be  quite 
as  fortunate  as  the  average  finder  of  a  gold  mine,  for 
the  Utes  would  impoverish  themselves  to  get  it  back. 
The  Osage  medicine  is  said  to  be  a  similar  stone 
figure,  smaller  than  that  of  the  Utes,  and  showing  no 
marks  of  chisel.  Indian  rumor  says  that  Sitting 
Bull  has  recently  given  a  new  medicine  to  the  Sioux, 
but  no  one  knows  what  it  is. 


■  .tI'.' 


CHAPTER  IX. 


.*X 

^.y 


HOCII-E-A-YUM  —  THE  GREAT  MEDICIXE  DANCE  — 
SUFFERING  AND  ENDURANCE  OF  THE  DANCERS. 

The  Cotton  Wood  Lodge  —  The  Medicine  Dance  —  Preparations  for  tlio 
Cercmor J  —  Extent  of  tlie  Suffering  Involved  —  In  the  Circle  —  Tlie 
Spectators  —  Selection  of  Warriors  for  the  Dance  —  Death  the  I'enalty 
of  Failure  —  Strijjped  for  the  Struggle  —  Eyes  Fixed  —  The  Sus- 
pended Image  —  Wild  Enthusiasm — The  Dance  of  Endurance  — 
The  Weary  Round  —  Shouts  of  Encouragement  —  Wail  of  the  Squaws 
—  An  Exhausted  Dancer  —  Drajrjjed  from  the  Fatal  Arena  —  The 
Victim  —  Death  of  the  Dancer  —  Tlie  Furies  of  Jlell  Let  Loose  — 
Fleeing  From  Wrath  —  Rallying  the  Bands  —  Four  Days'  of  Suffer- 
ing —  Sticking  it  Out  to  the  Bitter  End  —  Recognition  and  Reward  — 
Rushing  in  at  the  Eleventh  Hour  —  Carrying  off  the  Prize. 

^  -^  '"^  Cheyenne  word,  Hoch-e-a-y inn,  is 
a  generic  term,  ajjplying  exactly  as 
the  woi'd  chnreh  in  English.  Tt  means, 
not  only  the  strnctnre  Hself,  bnt  the 
ceremonies  performed  in  it,  and  the 
meeting  of  the  bands  or  people.  The 
literal  meaning  of  the  word,  in  the 
Cheyenne  language,  is  the  "lodge  made 
of  cotton- wood  poles."  This  distinguishes 
it  from  the  ordinary  habitation  of  the  Indian,  made 
of  slvins  or  cloth.  Every  Indian  of  a  tribe  may  attend 
the  "H6ch-e-a-yum,"  but  the  special  actors  who  take 
part  in  the  ceremonies  are  "H6ch-e-a-tan,"  —  that 
is,  "  the  people  who  make  the  medicine  in  the  lodge 
of  cotton-wood  poles." 

136 


^ 


i\ 


ft  r- 


•'■^'^m-!^^^^^p!- 


T/f/:i 


PRELIMINARIES    TO   THE   DANCE. 


137 


The  lodge  itself  is  a  large  structure,  constructed,  as 
the  name  indicates,  of  cotton-wood  forks  and  poles, 
and^capable  of  holding  several  hundred  people.  The 
sides  are  more  or  less  open,  and  the  top  is  covered 
with  skins,  or  boughs  of  trees,  sufficient  to  keep  out 
the  rays  of  the  sun,  but  scarcely  affording  any  pro- 
tection against  rain.  The  meeting  itself  is  exactly 
analogous  to  the  great  camp-meetings,  so  common  in 
various  parts  of  our  country. 

Of  late  years,  many  and  remarkable  changes  have 
taken  place  in  the  H6ch-e-a-yum ;  in  the  power  which 
calls  it  together;  in  the  character  of  the  actors;  in 
the  nature  of  the  ceremonies;  in  the  amount  of  suf- 
fering involved  and  in  the  results  expected  to  be 
attained. 

As  the  simplest  method  of  explaining  these  changes, 
I  give  a  description  of  the  medicine  dance,  as  prac- 
tised to  within  a  very  few  years,  by  all  the  Plains 
tribes,  but  now  carried  out,  strictly  and  in  its  entirety, 
by  only  a  ver^'  few  of  those  wilder  tribes,  scarcely  yet 
brought  fi'iiy  under  the  power  of  the  United  States. 
A  circular  space  of  some  twenty  feet  in  diameter  is 
roped  off  for  the  dancers.  A  concentric  space  of  a 
few  feet  is  for  the  guard;  all  the  outer  portion  of  the 
lodge  is  for  the  spectators. 

In  accordance  with  his  right  and  duty,  the  medicine 
chief  now  announces  his  selection  of  the  warriors  who 
are  to  make  the  dance.  The  number  varies,  but  is,  on 
an  average,  one  for  every  hundred  persons  in  the 
bands  represented. 

The  head  chief  also  announces  his  selection  of  the 
guard,  whose  duty  is  to  see  that  the  dancers  are  in  no 
way  interfered  with,  and  that  they  perform  their  duty 
in  accordance  with  the  instructions  of  the  medicine 

10 


•i- 


;*■;■? 


v.. 


,Ai'] 


^ti,  ..  v^  t-.e.t 


..-    A    _.  j*»i 


«^-i,<>.i.  ;3i.<i',wl^is3tMjr.^;*S^*vc*«» 


fj/^^Tc'f'TTTpNI'TV^    ^■.■'  ■''■ 


mmWi 


138 


COMMENCEMENT   OF   THE   DANCE. 


■'i' 


M  I 


^•;-. 


r  '■'' 


chief.  The  number  of  guards  is  about  equal  to  that 
of  the  rlancers.  The  announcement  of  tlie  names  of 
dancers  and  guards,  and  of  the  liour  wlien  the  dance 
is  to  commence,  is  made  in  a  loud  voice  from  the  door 
of  the  medicine  lodge.  Each  and  all  named  are 
warned  that  disgrace  and  death  will  be  the  portion  of 
any  warrior  who  fails  to  appear  at  the  time  a])pointed. 

A  few  moments  before  the  specified  time,  the  guard, 
fully  armed  and  under  its  appointed  captain,  files  into 
the  lodge  and  takes  its  place  just  outside  the  ro])es 
of  the  iimer  circle.  At  the  a])pointed  instant,  the 
dancers  are  escorted  by  the  medicine  chief  to  the 
inner  circle.  Each  is  stripped  to  the  breech  clout 
(sometimes  entirely  naked),  and  holds  in  his  mouth 
a  small  whistle  of  wood  or  bone,  in  the  lower  end  of 
which  is  fastened  a  single  tail  feather  of  the  med- 
icine bird.* 

The  medicine  chief  an-anges  the  dancers  in  a  circle 
facing  to  the  centre,  whilst  he  himself,  having  got  out 
of  the  way,  gives  the  signal  to  commence.  At  once 
every  dancer  fixes  his  eye  on  the  suspended  image, 
blows  shrilly  and  continuously  on  his  whistle,  and  be- 
gins the  monotonous  and  graceless  Indian  dance,  the 
whole  line  of  dancers  moving  slowly  round  the  circle. 
Some  of  the  young  ones,  cai*ried  away  by  religious 
enthusiasm,  bound  vigoi-ously  into  the  air;  but  the 
older  and  more  expeiienccd  expend  only  a  bare  suflii- 
ciency  of  force,  for  this  is  a  dance  of  endurance.  The 
will  of  the  gods  is  to  be  known  by  the  effect  of  the 

*  The  RoJid  Runner,  or  Cliapparal  Cock.  Tliis  bird  is  believed  by  all 
the  Plains  Indians  to  be  wonderfully  "good  medicine."  The  skin,  or 
even  some  feathers,  .•iro  as  etHcacioiis  in  keeping  evil  from  the  lodge  as 
was  the  horse-shoe  to  our  ancestors.  The  jwor  bird  pnys  dearly  for  this 
favorable  opinion.  It  is  incessantly  hnnted  by  the  Indians,  and  is  now 
exceedingly  rare  on  the  plains  north  of  Texas. 


«j&^ 


«#" 


3- 


i-3   -. 
;    O    71 

3  r?  M 


?=-  = 
aw  B 

3   3 


7  _  3  X 

=    »    71  W 

f?    ="    3-  ^ 

->  0  rt  k; 

?a';5  r! 

52=  ii; 


»    0.71  13 

3    p    C  W 
S.3   71 

crt  rt  ^ 

^i  rs  3  !^ 

'    3-0-  > 

c   3   3  ^ 

C    •/■.   »  ^ 

•??3  2 

-  ^1==^  o 

5  1.2  y. 

0   0^ 

71   -I    3  ^ 

r.  rs'  O 

5S=  • 


?=: 

a.  71 

5' 3* 


7» 

2  " 


t 


^v 


iSpw^ 


W«'lW'."i>PlW''l'fP'^-iL<'"'W4 


A  DANCER   FALLS. 


141 


dance  on  the  dancers,  and,  nntil  the  high  priest  shall 
announce  liiniseir  satisfied,  the  dancers  must  continue 
their  weary  i-ound,  without  ^leep,  food,  drink,  or 
obedience  to  any  demand  of  nature. 

For  the  first  eight  or  ten  hours  the  dance  is  unin- 
teresting enough,  but  by  that  time  fatigue,  the  slow 
rotary  motion,  the  constant  keeping  the  eyes  on  one 
spot,  and  the  expenditure  of  breath  in  unceasing 
whistling,  begin  to  tell.  By  this  time  every  foot  of 
space  inside  the  lodge  is  crowded  with  eager  and 
intensely  interested  spectators.  Relatives  and  friends 
watch  every  movement  of  the  dancers,  rouse  up  the 
flagging  ])y  yells  and  shouts,  by  words  of  encourage- 
ment or  terms  of  endearment.  The  lodge  is  a  fright- 
ful bal)ble  of  sounds,  which  culminate  in  shrieks  and 
a  rush  of  women,  as  some  dancer  totters,  reels,  and 
falls  to  the  ground.  The  rush  is  sternly  met,  and  the 
body  dragged  by  the  guard  out  of  the  circle  of  the 
dancers,  and  into  that  of  the  guards.  There  it  is  laid 
on  its  back,  and  the  high  priest  proceeds  to  paint 
symbols  and  hieroglyphics  on  the  face  and  person,  with 
"  medicine  jiaint "  of  varied  colors.  If  consciousness 
is  not  restored  by  this  treatment,  the  body  is  taken 
into  the  open  air  and  buckets  of  water  thrown  over  it. 
This,  as  a  rule,  soon  revives  the  inanimate  form,  at 
sight  of  which,  the  women  set  up  yells  of  delight, 
and  surround  the  priest  with  prayers  and  entreaties 
that  this  dancer  may  be  spared  further  effort. 

Throughout  all  the  ceremony  the  word  of  the  med- 
icine chief  is  law,  which  no  power  may  question.  He 
may  now  order  the  revived  dancer  back  to  the  circle, 
to  dance  until  he  again  falls,  or  he  may  excuse  him. 
Influenced  by  the  women,  or  by -the  promise  of  one, 
two,  or  half  a  dozen  ponies  (according  to  the  wealth 


'm 


m 


'f'i^i 


•J 


-<-JW^Ii^J 


•■jmrnmrnmimmmmiskMA'A:.^ 


142 


FLEEING  FROM   WRATH. 


of  the  dancer),  the  priest  generally  accedes  to  the 
request,  and  the  overcome  dancer  is  carried  off  to  his 
lodge  by  his  women,  to  be  i^etted  and  condoled  with 
until  fully  recovered. 

In  the  mean  time  the  dance  goes  on.  One  by  one, 
the  dancers  fall,  to  be  revived  by  the  same  process, 
and  excused  by  the  same  jDcrsuasion,  or  sternly 
ordered  back  to  Iheir  work.  As  the  death  of  a  dan- 
cer is  indicative  of  "  bad  medicine,"  this  forcing  one 
back,  after  falling,  is  only  done  in  rare  and  important 
cases,  or  when  the  priest  has  an  object  to  gain. 

If  the  dance  progresses  to  the  end  of  the  appointed 
time  without  a  resulting  death,  the  priest  proclaims 
"good  medicine."  The  dance  ceases,  the  dancers  are 
feted  and  caressed,  and  the  medicine  lodge  is  taken 
down.  Happiness  and  congratulation  are  expressed 
in  every  face.  The  chiefs  and  Avarriors,  assured  of 
the  power  and  pi-otection  of  the  Good  God,  meet  in 
council  to  decide  u-jion  the  programme  for  the  year, 
which  after  "good  medicine,"  is  genei'ally  Avar. 

But  it  may  happen  that  one  or  more  bodies  are 
brought  from  the  dance  which  neither  paint  nor  watc 
will  -evive.  There  is  no  need  to  announce  "  bad  med- 
icine," for  no  sooner  is  death  assured  than  the  whole 
camp  becomes  a  pandemonium.  The  howls  of  the 
men  mingle  with  the  shrieks  and  wails  of  the  women. 
The  dance  is  broken  up.  Horses  are  killed  for  the  use 
of  the  dead  in  the  Hap^  y  Hunting  Grounds.  Their 
widows  inflict  ghastly  wounds  on  their  arms  and 
breasts.  The  whole  camp  is  a  turmoil  of  consterna- 
tion and  mourning.  As  soon  as  the  last  rites  for  the 
dead  are  completed,  the  bands  separate,  and  each  in 
its  own  way  feeeks  to*  escape  or  avert  the  wrath  of  the 
Bad  God. 


il'i:i'<-fl-V''i,-vf-' 


hog's  vow. 


143 


Such  was  the  medicine  dance  in  its  rigor.  The 
peculiarities  of  the  dance  itself  are  yet  the  same,  but 
the  power  has  departed  from  the  medicine  chief,  until 
he  is  scarcely  more  than  master  of  ceremonies.  He  can 
still  call  the  people  together,  but  he  has  no  longer  the 
selection  of  the  dancers.  No  moi'c  can  he  kill  off  one 
or  more  men  when  he  wants  "bad  medicine,"  nor 
secure  ponies  and  peltries  for  being  lenient  when  he 
wants  "good  medicine." 

Any  warrior  can  now  hold  a  "medicine  lodge," 
either  as  an  extra  effort  of  piety,  or  in  fulfilment  of  a 
vow.  The  last  held  by  the  Cheyennes  was  given  by 
one  of  the  warriors,  Hog,  who  was  so  long  confined 
in  jail  at  Dodge  City,  under  charges  of  murder  and 
rapine  committed  on  citizens  of  Kansas  in  1878,  and 
who,  while  in  prison,  made  a  vow  to  give  a  Hoch-e-a- 
yum,  if  aided  to  extricate  himself  from  his  then 
im})ending  danger. 

This  gi*and  ceremony  involves  considerable  expense, 
and  is  thei-eforc  not  often  given  by  a  private  individ- 
ual. It  is  generally  the  result  of  a  call  of  the  medi- 
cine chief,  or  of  a  combination  of  warriors  who  wish 
to  signalize  their  endurance  and  piety,  to  expiate  an 
offence,  or  perform  an  act  of  propitiation.  It  is 
sometimes  gotten  up  by  the  young  bucks  (both  mar- 
ried and  single)  as  a  means  of  bringing  the  bands 
together,  ind  thus  increasing  and  widening  their 
opportunities  for  love-making. 

We  will  suppose  the  call  determined  upon.  Run- 
ners are  sent  to  the  bands  and  families  scattered  far 
and  wide.  As  there  is  now  no  compulsion  of  dancers, 
the  summons  is  a  welcome  one  to  all,  a  frolic  on 
which  all  expect  amusement,  excitement,  and  religious 
enthusiasm. 


■;^v 


i-^% 

ii 


m 


3i!:u:u.;ii«w;^v : 


Wnt}-'         '■■jSWf,''^^*'^^    ' 


VW^^^:-' 


wmmm^ 


144 


VOLUNTEERS   FOR   THE   DAXCE. 


w 


A  good  spot  has  been  selected,  Avith  plenty  of 
"wood,  water  and  grass,"  and  at  the  appointed  time 
crowds  pour  in  from  every  direction.  All  is  bustle 
and  excitement,  camps  are  jjitched,  friends  long  sepa- 
rated met  and  rejoiced  over.  The  women  go  to  work 
on  the  medicine  lodge. 

"When  it  is  completed,  a  solemn  council  of  all  the 
elders  is  called  to  deliberate  on  the  Ibrms  to  be 
observed.  This  is  a  most  serious  question,  and  gener- 
ally occupies  about  three  days.  No  women  or  unini- 
tiated wari'iors  are  permitted  to  enter  the  lodge  during 
the  council.  "When  all  has  been  decided  upon,  the  time 
of  the  opening  of  the  dance  is  officially  announced  by 
criers,  and  all  wai-riors  invited  to  enlist  as  dancers. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  what  but  a  few  years  ago 
was  compulsory,  and  performed  under  the  supervision 
of  the  medicine  chief  and  a  regularly  detailed  guard, 
is  now  a  purely  voluntary  act.  The  dancers  are 
actuated  to  volunteer  by  every  conceivable  human 
motive;  some  by  vanity,  to  display  their  vigor  and 
endurance;  some  by  religious  enthusiasm;  some  by 
love,  hoping  to  render  themselves  more  pleasing  in 
the  eyes  of  their  loved  ones;  some  in  des})air,  clinging 
to  this  as  the  last  sole  chance  of  melting  some  obdu- 
rate female  heart.  One  dances  because  he  has  sick- 
nees  in  his  family,  which  he  hopes  to  eradicate  by  an 
act  pleasing  to  God;  another  because  his  wife  has  no 
children;  another  as  a  propitiation  or  an  atonement 
for  some  crime.  The  large  majority  of  ihe  young 
men  entei*  the  dance  because  it  is  the  "  thing  to  do," 
in  other  words,  fashionable.  If  they  did  not,  lliey 
would  be  regarded  as  lacking  either  in  the  manly 
qualities  necessary  in  a  warrior,  or  in  piety,  possibly 
in  both.     The   consequence   is   that   neai-ly  all   tlie 


a,' ,.4i ,..■-■  li-^  ■»•■ 


..  -• 


mmm^ 


■v.*'',"^ 

1--A 


wfmiiii^^ 


'  -jfy-jw jfffs-r-  T  J  fi 


''?f^f#^^^--7^C¥'^^'*i'*.'i??I"?  ??***■>■■; 


POWER   OF   ENDURAJfCE. 


145 


t 


i 


unmarried  men  of  the  tribe,  and  numbers  of  the 
younger  married  men,  say  at  least  half  of  the  fighting 
force  there  present,  will  go  into  the  dance. 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  dancers  appear.  Each 
has  his  whistle  ornamented  with  the  tail-feather  of 
the  "  medicine  bird,"  for  which,  as  the  bird  is  now 
rare,  extravagant  prices  are  sometimes  paid.  The 
dress  of  the  dancers  varies  with  the  tribe.  The 
Ari-apahoes  and  Sioux  have  only  the  breech-clout, 
and  are  sometimes  absolutely  "in  puris  naturalibus." 
The  Chcyennes,  more  modest,  wear  during  the  day 
time  a  shawl  or  kirtie,  extending  from  the  waist  to 
below  the  knee,  at  night  the  breech-clout  alone. 

Under  the  supervision  of  the  medicine  chief  the 
dance  commences.  Religious  observances  fix  its 
duration  at  four  days,  but  general  custom  warrants  a 
suspension  at  any  hour  of  the  fourth  day.  Even  with 
this  indulgence  the  wonderful  powei's  of  endurance 
of  the  Indians  are  fully  displayed.  Think  of  even 
seventy-five  hours  williout  sleep,  food,  drink,  or  obe- 
dience to  any  demand  of  nature ;  of  seventy-five  hours 
of  unremittl  'g  motion;  of  seventy-five  hours'  expen- 
diture of  bre.ith  in  a  constant,  monotonous  whistle. 

I  have  already  stated  that  in  this  present  age  of 
Indian  enlightenment  the  dance  is  purely  a  voluntaiy 
act.  There  is,  therefore,  no  absolute  obligation  for 
any  warrior  to  "  stick  it  out "  to  the  bitter  end.  This 
is  fully  realized  by  the  dancers,  and  after  about 
twenty-four  hours  they  begin  to  fall  out. 

As,  however,  the  estimation  in  which  a  man  is  held 
in  his  tribe  depends  to  some  extent  on  the  endurance 
and  pluck  displayed  by  him,  each  is  stimulated  to  do 
his  best,  and  those  that  hold  out  longest  are  the  best 
men. 


y 


J/.H^-^iXi  ^^k-iiAaii',;-;,rV';i-4j.i;i  > 


.(.■..\jS.,.ii,'..l, 


n'^»ii4l^&SU&^tl 


f  ,t  i 


»>'•' 


h% 


14G 


ELEVENTH   HOUR   DAXCERS. 


This,  however,  depends  somewhat  on  the  motive 
of  the  man  in  making  the  dance.  If  that  motive  is 
personal  to  himself,  he  can  cease  dancing  whenever 
he  thinks  he  has  done  enough,  eithei-  as  propitiation 
or  atonement.  If  he  goes  into  the  dance  from  purely 
religious  impulses,  he  is  expected  to  stick  to  the  end. 
Of  a  hundred  men  who  start  together  in  the  dance, 
tlftj  will  have  given  up  on  the  expiration  of  the  first 
thirty  hours,  anothei*  twenty  or  twenty-five  will  col- 
lapse before  forty-eight  hours  have  expired,  and  thus 
they  gradually  fall  out,  until  the  expii-ation  of  the 
dance  will  find  present  and  at  work  but  ten  or  fifteen 
of  the  original  starters. 

Usually,  however,  there  are  many  more  at  the  out- 
come. There  is  a  spiritual  recognition  and  reward  to 
those  who  are  on  duty  at  the  moment  Avhen  the  medi- 
cine chief  declares  the  dance  at  an  end,  even  though 
they  began  at  the  "eleventh  hour."  Some  of  the 
shrewder  and  more  calculating  manage  to  come  in 
for  these  special  benefits,  by  being  "moved  by  the 
Spirit "  to  join  the  dance,  on  the  second,  or  even  the 
third  day. 

In  the  old  times,  when  the  dancers  were  selected 
by  the  medicine  chief,  and  the  dance  conducted  "  en 
rigueui*,"  to  the  limit  of  life,  no  wari-ior  was  required 
to  make  the  dance  a  second  time.  'Now  the  same 
men  make  it  year  after  yeai",  and  though  all  may 
come  out  of  the  trial  more  or  less  exhausted,  it  is 
extremely  rare  that  any  fatal  result  attends  these 
marvellous  exertions. 

The  whole  character  of  the  medicine  dance  has 
changed.  "  Good  medicine,"  the  indication  of  the 
ascendancy  of  the  Good  God,  or  "  bad  medicine,"  of 
the  Bad  God,  does  not  now  depend  on  the  accident 


1 


"tfn 


\36    jJW'a     ^M.'HSlk  Ll^i-*    '^\   ■*& 


<^«^ 


GOOD   OK   BAD   MEDICINE. 


147 


df  life  or  death  to  one  or  more  of  the  dancers,  but 
is  indicated  by  the  general  condition  of  the  dan- 
cers when  the  ceremony  is  over,  by  the  greater  or 
less  harmony  of  the  bands  or  cliques,  by  the  amount 
of  religious  fervor  and  enthusiasm  displayed,  and 
even  by  the  state  of  the  weather.  If  everything 
works  smoothly  and  well,  and  it  be  fair  and  calm,  the 
Good  God  is  present  and  pleased.  If  there  be  jars 
and  dissensions,  if  the  rain  deluges  the  dancers,  or 
the  wind  knocks  the  "  Hoch-e-a-yum  "  about  their 
ears,  the  Bad  God  is  around,  and  not  in  a  good 
humor. 


-•?» 


NoTK.  —  The  medicine  dance  is  not  a  woi'ship  or  devotion ;  it  is  an 
act  of  divination ;  a  means  of  ascertaining  tlie  relative  position  of  tlie 
two  Gods  towards  the  tribe.  An  image  representing  botli  Gods  (one 
side  being  painted  wliite,  tlie  other  black),  is  hung  up  in  the  centre  of 
the  lodge  above  the  dancers. 


1^ 


«i 


scr. 


■■im; 


■ii^ff^m, 


CHAPTER  X. 


!  <        . 


^' 


INDIAN"  METHODS   OF   SELF-TORTURE  —  ENDURANCE 
AND   DEFIANCE    OF   PAIN. 

The  Warrior's  Ordeal  —  Panting  for  tlie  Knifo  —  IIow  Suffering  is  Courted 

—  SUilwiirt  Endurance  of  Pain — Tlie  Greatest  of  Indian  Virtues  — 
Reniari<ablo  Religious  Fervor  —  Indian  Pride  in  Self-Torture  —  Prep- 
arations for  the  Tiying  Ordeal  —  Fasting,  Silence,  and  Meditation  — 
The  Candidates  Brougiit  before  the  Medicine  Chief — Deciding  on 
the  Kind  and  Amount  of  Torture  —  The  Merciless  Thrust  of  the  Knife 

—  Inserting  Horsehair  Ropes — The  Wounded  Devotee  —  Muscles 
Torn  from  the  Breast  —  Incredible  Suffering  —  The  Victim's  Tragic 
Efforts  to  Break  Loose  —  Suspended  in  Mid-air  —  Indescribable  Ago- 
nies—  Lips  that  Never  Murmur  —  Dressing  *he  Wounds  —  Tiie  Con- 
seqiicnces  of  Flinching  under  the  Knife — The  "  Sun  Dance''  of  the 
Sioux  —  Expiation  of  Crime —  Exasperating  Forms  of  Torture. 

FTER  the  dance  has  ended,  and  many 
times  when  it  is  yet  in  progress,  the 
tortures  take  place. 

A  few  years  ago,  every  aspirant 
for  the  position  and  honor  of  warrior 
in  the  Plains  tribes,  was  obliged  to 
go  through  an  ordeal  as  brutal  and 
'f<^  bloody  as  can  well  be  imagined.  That 
^  too  has  gone  in  the  rapid  progress  of 
change.  The  boy  of  sixteen  to  twenty  years,  ])ant- 
ing  for  his  promotion  to  the  position  of  warrior,  is  no 
longer  obliged  to  bare  his  breast  to  the  knife,  to  be 
tied  up  by  broad  bands  of  his  own  flesh,  and  to  fight 
out  alone  his  battle  of  pain  and  suffering.  In  not 
one  single  Plains  tribe  is  the  ordeal  at  present  a  con- 

148 


' 


4   iv 


«".V-«3-:.i!^i..  ■ 


I 


VOLUNTEERS  FOR   TORTURE. 


149 


i 


'■ 


dition  of  manhood,  or  entrance  to  the  brotherhood  of 
warriors. 

But  though  no  longer  necessary,  it  by  no  means 
follows  that  the  torture  is  discontinued.  The  history 
of  mankind  shows  that  the  "spirit  that  makes  mar- 
tyrs "  is  in  inverse  proportion  to  the  civilization  of  a 
people.  Religious  faith  (or  what  we  call  superstition 
when  applied  to  any  religion  but  the  one  we  happen 
to  believe  in)  is  strongest  in  the  uneducated.  The 
faith  of  the  savage  is  perfect,  for  it  is  unbiassed 
and  untrammelled  by  any  doubt  that  reason  might 
intci'pose. 

The  very  loftiest  virtue  of  the  American  Indian  is 
endurance.  "When  religious  superstition  and  the 
highest  social  virtue  of  a  people  combine  in  a  given 
direction,  or  toAvards  any  one  action,  it  may  be 
regarded  as  sure  that  that  act  will  be  performed. 

The  Indian  believes,  with  many  Chi'istians,  that 
self-torture  is  an  act  most  acceptable  to  God,  and  the 
extent  of  pleasure  that  he  can  give  his  God  is  exactly 
measured  by  the  amount  of  suffering  that  he  can 
bear  without  flinching.  There  are,  therefore,  always 
some  wan-iors  who  are  actuated  to  the  self-torture  of 
the  "  Hoeh-e-a-yum,"  by  motives  as  pure  and  senti- 
ments as  holy  as  ever  led  a  Christian  martyr  to  the 
stake.  Others  are  actuated  by  pride  or  ambition; 
they  wish  to  signalize  to  the  whole  tribe  their  pos- 
session in  an  eminent  degree  of  the  chief  of  manly 
virtues,  or  to  lay  a  foundation  for  futui'c  pi-eferment 
by  an  act  at  onceiioly  and  popular. 

At  every  medicine  dance  there  are  more  or  less 
volunteers  for  the  torture.  Occasionally  there  is  a 
man  of  middle  age,  but  they  are  generally  from  the 
younger  men  of  the  tribe,  youth  being  the  season 


'I. 


'4^ 


^,»S 


*Si   -^s 


,i^ 


..-   -.rV.fc-'.!   ..:.'} \if.-  i.-L-A'iLi^l-Jn  i- 


-  "fA'.-~vi.lL-»  ,t,.^...i.  .A-,-^i\>,i';\-^i.4;*-^'^L;;t"i..'..*-.,i  Cv-^S^-i  '.i-.'^'  .;- .  --■ 


y' 


':^%- 


'■■  *. 


.1 


150 


TRAGIC   STRUGGLES. 


when  passion  of  every  kind  has  most  energy.  These 
men  do  not  as  a  rule  join  the  dance,  but  spend  a  few- 
days  immediately  preceding  the  ordeal  in  fasting  and 
silent  meditation. 

When  the  medicine  chief  and  old  men  decide 
that  the  time  has  come  for  this  part  of  the  ceremony, 
the  volunteers  are  sent  for  one  by  one.  Each  conies 
into  the  lodge  in  bi'cech-clout  alone.  His  person  and 
condition  are  examined  by  the  managers,  who  coolly 
discuss  in  his  presence  the  particular  kind  and 
amount  of  torture  he  can  bear  without  fatal  consfc- 
qjiences. 

After  some  religious  ceremonies,  the  medicine 
chief  passes  a  broad-bladed  knife  through  the  pec- 
toiul  muscles  so  as  to  make  two  vei'tical  incisions 
about  two  inches  from  each  other,  and  fi-om  three  to 
four  inches  long,  in  each  breast.  The  portion  of  the 
flesh  between  the  incisions  is  then  lifted  from  the 
bone,  and  the  ends  of  horsehair  ropes  of  some  three- 
fourths  of  an  inch  in  diameter  passed  through  the 
opening,  and  tied  to  wooden  toggles.  The  free  ends 
of  the  ropes  are  then  fastened  to  the  top  of  one  of 
the  supports  of  the  lodge,  so  as  to  give  the  sufferer 
some  ten  feet  play.  Here  he  remains  without  food  or 
water,  until  his  own  vigorous  efforts,  or  the  soften- 
ing of  the  tissues,  enable  him  to  tear  out  the  incised 
muscles  and  escape  from  his  bondage. 

Sometimes  the  incisions  are  made  in  the  muscles  of 
the  shoulder-blade  or  of  the  back,  and  to  the  ropes 
are  attached  movable  objects,  preferably  the  skulls 
of  buffaloes.  Sometimes  the  devotee  is  dragged  up 
by  the  ropes  until  six  or  eight  feet  from  the  ground, 
and  left  suspended  until  his  weight  and  struggles 
tear  out  the  flesh. 


I 


;..fei^i«,iA -i  ■:Ji'''<iK-Ji- 


i«ik,'^v;>il.V-f>5.'ii^ 


•:.<vii, 


,y:-;^.'v,   1 


I 


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the  ope 
te?ring 

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M   «•„. 

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Mim>^fMim ' 


t 


CONSEQUEXCE   OF  FLINCHING. 


153 


Each  devotee  makes  the  most  strenuous  efforts  to 
free  himself.  He  understands  that  it  is  best  to  tear 
loose  as  soon  as  possible,  not  only  physically  as  a 
quicker  ending  of  his  torture,  but  also  from  a  relig- 
ious point  of  view.  It  is  "good  medicine"  to  tear 
loose  at  once,  "bad  medicine"  to  be  several  days 
about  it. 

As  soon  as  freed,  he  is  examined  by  the  medicine 
chief  and  old  men.  If  all  is  right,  he  is  congratu- 
lated, other  religious  ceremonies  gone  through  with ; 
his  wounds  are  washed  and  dressed  with  herbs,  rudely, 
but  with  such  skill  that  in  a  few  weeks  they  are 
entirely  healed.  Singular  as  it  may  appear,  an 
instance  of  fatal  result,  even  in  the  hottest  weather, 
has  never  come  to  my  knowledge.*  Should  the 
devotee  flinch  under  the  knife  or  cry  out,  or  show 
other  evidence  of  weakness  during  his  subsequent 
sufferings,  he  is  released  at  once,  and  sent  off  a  dis- 
graced man.  Formerly  ho  was  contemned  as  a 
woman,  and  made  to  do  women's  work.  He  could 
neither  marry  nor  hold  property.  These  conse- 
quences are  no  longer  entailed,  his  only  punishment 
now  being  the  contempt  of  the  warriors  of  the  tribe. 

In  former  times  no  white  man,  except  those  allied 
to  the  tribe  by  marriage  with  squaws,  was  permitted 
to  be  present  at  this  ceremony.  Now,  all  is  open. 
Every  one  is  welcome,  and  a  white  man  of  rank  or 
distinction  is  received  among  the  managers  and  given 
the  best  place  to  see  everything. 

*  From  mortification,  as  would  seem  to  bo  the  natural,  almost  inevi- 
table result  of  such  laceration  of  the  tissues.  Immediately  on  being 
released  from  the  tortures,  the  devotees,  hot  and  exhausted  as  they  are, 
frequently  plunge  into  the  river.  The  shock  is  often  fatal.  In  March, 
of  1879,  two  Cheyenne  warriors,  who  had  just  undergone  the  torture, 
died  from  this  cause. 


■  '<i-^ 


1 


:^'.;ia ' 


,-.jS.-.'r''4v|i  -'°<'-*i-'^«ii  ' 


\,'r  VT' .■";y;">T'.^A/i  rr  vi'i '.'7    *  -■••■...4    *^'v  *■ 


1? 


154 


EXPIATORY   TORTURE. 


■■M/-^ 
t/-" 


f' 


ft  f 


The  ceremonies  liere  described  are  common,  under 
different  names,  to  most  of  the  Plains  triljcs.  Among 
the  Sioux  it  is  called  "the  Sun  Dance,"  and  celebrated 
with  exceptional  pomp  and  circumstance. 

But  it  is  not  alone  at  the  II6ch-e-a-yum  that  these 
terrible  self-tortui'cs  are  inflicted.  Sometimes  a  war- 
rior who  has  committed  some  deed  Avliich  he  thinks 
requires  expiation,  will  give  notice  that  on  such  a  day, 
at  such  a  place,  he  will  go  through  the  torture.  A 
stout  but  pliant  pole  is  planted  in  the  ground.  Th<j 
incisions  are  made,  the  ropes  inserted,  and  the  toggles 
seciu-ed.  The  top  of  the  pole  is  then  bent  and  the 
rope  fastened  to  it.  This  is  probably  the  most 
exasperating  form  of  the  torture.  In  the  Il»jch-e-a- 
yum,  the  rope  being  fastened  to  rigid  uprights,  the 
victim  can  exert  all  his  force  to  tear  loose.  In  this 
ease,  the  pole,  yielding  to  his  every  effort,  still  retains 
its  ghastly  hold,  and  it  sometimes  happens  that  the 
victim  is  several  d-iys  freeing  himself. 


t 


i 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   INDIANS   LAST   KESTING-PLACE  —  BURIAL   OF 

THE   DEAD. 

The  Excitomont  Caused  by  a  Death  in  Camp —  An  Indian  Cemetery  — 
Depositinj?  the  Hody  in  a  Tree  —  The  Huiial  Case  —  How  the  IJody 
is  Dressed  —  My  Horrible  Discovery  —  Foilowin;?  tlie  Trail  —  Another 
Discovery  —  Tlic  Dead  Body  of  tlio  Comanelio  War  Cliief  ~  How  He 
Died  —  Treatin":  His  Body  Avitli  Indij;;nity  —  Comical  Epitaph  — 
Stealin^j;  a  Roily  for  Dissection  —  The  IJody-Snatchers  at  Work  — 
Tlic  Midnight  Foray  —  Unexpected  Arrival  of  Sijuaws — Consterna- 
tion of  the  Thieves  —  Terror  and  Fliglit  of  the  Women  —  AVhat 
I  saw  in  a  Deserted  Utc  Cum))  —  Graves  Safe  from  Mortal  Eyes  — 
Secrets  Betrayed  by  Human  Uonea  —  Ouray's  Death  —  Ilia  Secret 
Burial  —  Discoverv  of  His  Grave. 


HERE  is  nothing  in  which  the  Plains 
Indian  varies  so  mnch  as  in  the  respect 
ii^^^^^^^>£j»  paid  to  the  dead,  in  the  care  and  man- 
v«&-  o^^/*9f^^  agement  of  the  body,  and  in  the  greater 
or  less  elaboration  of  the  fnneral  ser- 
vices. This  variation  is  not  in  the 
customs  of  the  different  tribes,  but  is 
luc  almost  entirely  to  circnmstances. 
During  the  long  enforced  inaction  of  the 
winter  camp,  which  the  Indian  mnst  get  through, 
as  best  he  can,  in  gambling  and  sleep,  the  death  of 
some  prominent  person  is  almost  a  matter  of  rejoicing. 
It  breaks  in  upon  the  monotony  of  the  daily  routine 
of  life  in  a  delightful  way,  bringing  both  excitement 

155 


$1 

■?*■  ■ 


/.  M 


V.      6| 


U\ 


(Ttt '..■.'■■  »•,■.'■.-.'  ■  ■-■ 


156 


VILLAGE   CEMETEniEP. 


^§$0m%y 


J 


and  occupation,  which  from  the  commencement  of 
the  elaborate  preparations  to  the  final  ceremony, 
may  last  for  quite  a  month.  All  may  indulge  in  the 
luxury  of  grief.  All  may  assist  in  prcpai-ing  the 
corpse,  and  in  ari'anging  its  last  resting-place.  The 
cold  weather  preserves  the  body  from  decomposition, 
thus  enabling  relatives  and  friends  to  devote  what 
time  they  wish  to  celebrate  the  character  and  exploits 
of  the  warrior  while  living,  and  to  mourn  for  hiB 
departure- 

The  death  ol  the  same  person  in  summer  would 
cause  some  general  excitement,  and  possibly  a  few 
days  might  be  given  to  the  obsequies;  but  should 
he  unfortunately  die  during  the  fall  hunt,  or  while 
on  some  important  expedition,  the  body  would  most 
likely  be  thrust  into  the  first  convenient  hole  in  I'ock 
or  prairie,  not  only  without  ceremony,  but  without 
feeling  or  mourning  except  from  his  immediate  rela- 
tives. 

These  of  the  northern  Plains  tribes,  who  live  in 
sc^^iewhat  permanent  villages,  usually  place  their 
dead  on  scaffolds.  A  site  foi*  a  cemetery  is  selected 
convenient  to  the  village,  yet  sufficiently  removed  to 
escape  the  effluvia  conytantly  ai'ising  from  the  dead 
bodies.     Some  of  these  sites  are  veiy  picturesque. 

While  the  women  of  all  the  Plains  tribes  are 
specially  given  to  excessive  demonstrations  of  grief 
in  mourning,  and  frequently  vif.it  the  graves  to  give 
freo  vent  to  their  sorrow,  th-  -c  tribes  yet  differ  in 
their  beliefs  as  to  the  Icngtl:  '>«'  the  journey  to  the 
Happy  Hunting  Grounds,  and  as  to  what  is  proper 
and  necessary  to  the  dead  during  its  pei'formance. 
Some  believe  that  the  soul  is  ftilly  two  months  on 
the  road,  through  a  space  devoid  of  every  necessity 


V 
"< 


..^    .rt! .-*.-» 


■■  V- .  -  <"^!  ^"■^.S:;?"';;'''"' ■'?: 


;*-?v-jvr',!-,',«Tiifn7:JM     -  ■>■ 


TREE    BUETAL. 


157 


to  its  comfort  or  even  to  its  existence.  Every  day, 
theretbre,  during  all  that  time,  food  and  water  are 
brought  and  placed  upon,  or  hung  around,  the  scaf- 
fold. Other  tribes  believe  that  the  final  journey  is 
made  in  one,  two,  or  more  days,  and  the  necessary  pro- 
vision is  depoi^ited  with  the  body  at  the  time  of  burial. 

It  is  curious  to  note  the  influence  of  the  habits  of 
a  tribe  on  these  beliefs,  the  dead  of  the  more  per- 
manent ti'ibcs  making  a  much  longer  journey  than 
those  of  the  more  nomadic. 

The  favorite  burial-place  of  the  more  wandering 
of  the  Plains  Indians  is  a  tree.  From  the  care  taken 
in  its  selection,  and  the  more  or  less  elaborate  con- 
struction of  what  may  be  termed  the  burial  case,  a 
very  fair  estimate  mav  be  formed  of  the  rank  and 
standing  of  the  dead. 

We  will  suppose  the  Indians  in  their  winter  en- 
campment. A  chief,  or  pi'omising  son  of  a  chief,  is 
to  be  buried.  The  country  for  miles  around  the 
camp  will  l)e  scouted  over,  and  sevei'al  eligible  bui'ial 
sites  selected,  the  relative  merits  of  which  form  a 
subject  of  discussion,  worthy  the  consideration  and 
detei-mination  of  the  general  council.  The  position 
is  finally  detei'mined  ujion.  It  must  be  a  sound, 
strong  tree,  well  sheltered,  and  apparently  safe  fi'om 
any  chance  of  being  uprooted  by  the  terrific  wind- 
storms of  the  Plains.  The  branches  must  be  so 
situated  that  the  final  resting-place  will  be  neai-ly 
horizontal.  It  must  not  be  so  near  any  favorite 
Indian  camping-place  that  the  inhabitants  might  be 
annoyed  by  disagreeable  effluvia  from  the  decompos- 
ing remains.  It  must  not  be  near  any  military  post, 
or  any  road  or  line  of  travel  of  white  men.     This 

last  is  an  important  condition,  for  of  late  years  the 

11 


I 


P' 


I 


158 


DRESSING   THE    BODY. 


Indians  have  had  ample  canse  to  complain  of  the 
desecration  of  the  last  homes  of  their  dead,  by  the 
bone-picking  proclivities  of  white  doctors,  or  the 
more  ruthless  and  less  excusable  plunder  by  white 
hunters,  travellei'S,  or  cattle  men. 

Poles  are  cut  for  the  construction  of  a  platform, 
and  the  whole  is  firmly  bound  together  and  to  the 
branches  by  hongs  of  raw  hide.  It  is  fi'om  six  to 
ten  feet  long,  and  from  three  to  five  feet  wide.  Upon 
it  are  sj^read  rushes,  grass,  or  the  leaves  and  small 
boughs  of  trees,  and  over  these  is  laid  one  or  more 
buffalo  robes.  On  this  bed  the  corpse  is  disposed, 
sometimes  in  a  sitting  posture,  but  generally  lying 
on  the  back  in  a  natural  position. 

The  body  is  dressed  in  the  most  gorgeous  apparel 
obtainable;  for  the  spirit  will  appear  so  dressed  in 
the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds,  and  as  good  a  first 
impression  as  possible   is  gi'eatly  desirable. 

Such  articles  of  civilized  manufacture  owned  by 
the  dead  in  life,  or  furnished  by  the  generosity  or 
piety  of  friends,  as  are  considered  necessary  to  his 
comfort  or  his  appearance  in  the  future  world,  are 
buried  with  him. 

Around  his  neck  is  suspended  the  medicine  bag, 
containing  the  bones,  ashes,  earths,  etc.,  used  in  his 
private  devotions,  and  by  his  side,  or  fastened  to  his 
lance  or  rifle,  is  his  "totem"  skin.  At  his  girdle 
(or  on  his  lance,  or  shield  among  the  more  southern 
Plains  Indians),  are  hung  all  the  scalps  he  has  taken 
in  life.  His  face  is  painted  in  the  most  splendid  style 
of  Indian  art. 

All  being  completed,  light  but  strong  branches  are 
attached  to  the  sides  of  the  platfoi-m,  and  bent  over 
the  body  like  the  bows  of  a  wagon.     The  enclosure 


uf/a 


mm-- 


■'■\*ir^'^^■'fi.■^^tJf^f^i'^r<^i:pf*•r'/^^^^  i^- 


CAVE    BURIAL. 


159 


«4k,a 


HP^- 


for  a  body  buried  in  a  horizontal  position  is  not  over 
two  feet  high.  Over  these  are  stretched  buffalo  hides 
(green  if  they  can  be  obtained),  with  the  hair  out, 
and  securely  fastened  to  the  platform  and  to  the 
boughs  with  thongs  of  raw  hide.  Every  aperture  is 
closed  as  tightly  as  possible.  Such  necessary  articles 
as  pots,  kettles,  etc.,  as  might  be  in  the  way  inside, 
are  securely  fastened  to  the  platform  or  the  neigh- 
boring branches;  and  over  all  are  hung  streamers  of 
red  and  white  cloth  to  frighten  away  any  animals  or 
birds  which  might  venture  to  disturb  the  remains. 
Such  a  tomb  in  the  dry  climate  of  the  Plains  will  last 
for  several  years. 

Tlie  bodies  of  connuon  warriors,  or  sons  of  war- 
riors —  and  occasionally  of  the  favorite  wife  of  a 
chief —  who  die  while  the  tribe  is  in  its  winter 
cncain[)ment  are  deposited  in  trees,  but  with  less 
elaboi'atc  care  and  ceremony. 

Ten  years  ago,  I  saw  on  the  Purgatory  River  in 
Southeastern  Colorado,  seven  graves  in  one  tree. 
Every  vestige  has  long  since  disa])i)eared,  and  the 
tree  now  shades  a  comfortable  farmhouse. 

The  body  of  a  chief  who  dies  in  other  than  the 
winter  season  is  generally  deposited  in  a  cave;  that 
of  a  common  warrior  in  any  convenient  hole  or 
ravine,  a  few  handfuls  of  earth,  or  sometimes  only 
grass  or  leaves,  being  thrown  over  tl  em.  Wojiicn 
and  female  children  of  the  common  people  are  thrust 
out  of  sight  in  the  most  convenient  way,  without 
ceremony  or  special  manifeslatioji  of  grief  Scalped 
warriors  are  never  buried. 

The  country  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Oimai'ron  River, 
south  of  Foil  Dodge,  is  almost  exclusively  a  gypsum 
formation.     Instead  of  wen  ring  channels  on  the  sur- 


"$f 


"^Z"  '^^^  '.' 


,1. 

ii 


160 


IGNOMIXIOUSLY  BURIED. 


face  of  the  ground  and  forming  ravines,  the  rains 
have  penetrated  the  soil,  dissolved  the  gypsum  and 
formed  for  watercourses  long,  inti'icate  tunnels  and 
caverns  innumerable.  These  are  favorite  burying- 
places.  During  a  visit  to  this  locality  with  a  party 
of  soldiers,  a  cave,  elaborately  walled  up,  was  dis- 
covered and  broken  into  by  some  of  the  men  of  my 
command,  and  a  great  quantity  of  useful  and  curious 
articles,  trinkets,  and  Indian  finery  taken  from  it.  I 
was  little  disposed  to  scold  them  for  the  desecration 
when  they  brought  me  a  string  of  at  least  a  dozen 
white  scalps,  some  of  infants,  and  one  of  long,  fair, 
and  most  beautiful  silky  hair,  which  had  undoubtedly 
adorned  the  head  of  some  woman  sufficiently  cidtured 
to  appreciate  and  take  excellent  care  of  the  lovely 
ornament. 

Even  chiefs  are  not  always  buried  with  religious 
care  and  attention.  Once,  on  a  scout,  I  came  upon 
an  Indian  encamiDment  very  recently  abandoned,  and 
which,  from  the  dead  horses,  broken  arms,  cut-up 
lodges  and  signs  of  blood,  I  at  first  supposed  had 
been  harried  by  a  hostile  band.  A  more  critical 
examination  soon  convinced  me  that  these  were  only 
evidences  of  the  death  of  some  prominent  man.  I 
found  where  a  heavy  body  had  been  dragged  over  the 
ground.  Following  this  trail  for  about  two  hundred 
yards,  I  came  to  a  small  mound  of  dry  leaves.  Push- 
ing them  aside,  I  was  astonished  to  recognize  the 
body  of  the  war  chief  of  the  Comanches,  a  man 
greatly  loved  and  feared  by  his  tribe.  He  Avas 
dressed  in  a  uniform  coat,  his  head  was  adorned 
with  a  hat  and  feather,  his  face  was  painted;  his 
gun  and  equipment,  complete,  were  beside  him,  and 
in  his  hand  1  >  held  a  box  of  matches.     A  closer 


mn 


•■•*» 


Am  ELABORATE   EPITAPH. 


161 


wgta 


•"(|W» 


examination  disclosed  the  fact  that  one  end  of  a  rope 
had  been  tied  around  liis  ankles,  the  other  evidently 
attached  to  the  pommel  of  a  saddle,  and  the  body, 
thus  dragged  naked  from  camp,  was  afterwards 
dressed  for  the  grave.  All  the  skin  was  torn  from 
the  back,  sides  and  loins,  and  the  body  otherwise 
greatly  mutilated  by  this  rough  treatment.  It  was 
not  until  some  months  after  that  I  learned  that  this 
chief  had  died  of  delirium  tremens.  The  tribe  had 
gone  into  all  the  usual  mourning  ecstasies  and  had 
given  him  a  good  outfit  for  the  Happy  Hunting 
Grounds,  but  had  shown  its  appreciation  of  the 
m(j(lc  of  his  death  by  treating  his  body  with  indig- 
nity. 

In  many  portions  of  the  Plains  —  even  where  suffi- 
cient wood  may  be  found  to  tempt  the  Indian  to  make 
his  winter  e]ican>pment  —  the  trees  are  too  small  to 
serve  the  purpose  of  a  burying-place.  Four  light 
poles  are  set  in  the  ground  and  the  platform  con- 
structed on  their  tops,  sometimes  but  six  or  eight 
feet  from  the  ground,  scarcely  beyond  the  reach  of 
the  hungry  wolves  which  soon  collect  about  it.  The 
Indians  near  the  agencies  now  frequently  use  the 
boxes  in  which  stores  are  sent  to  them,  and  the 
inscription,  which  at  a  little  distance  looks  like  an 
elaborate  ejiitaph,  may  turn  out,  on  closer  inspection, 
to  be  "  Best  Soap  "  or  "  Star  Crackers." 

The  platform  on  poles,  though  frequently  used,  has 
never  been  a  favorite  way  of  burying  with  the  south- 
ern Plains  Indians.  It  is  too  easily  overthrown.  The 
buffalo  in  the  old,  and  the  cattle  iu  the  present  time, 
equally  disregarding  the  feelings  of  the  surviving 
fi'lends,  make  short  work  of  such  a  grave  by  rubbing 
against  it. 


■J'm 


.^:k 


•ij  f"'^-"'-' '^'.  ^■■'.^■^•7v;4?r^;.-^^~"'''*T;  ^^•'"^'^•■■r^j*.' 


ij,,».T    ,,.,,».^,,-.    VW^S" 


;M'i 


'f  ■ 


162 


BODY  SJTATCHERS. 


I;"  ' 


Since  the  collection  on  reservations  and  near  agen- 
cies of  large  bodies  of  Indians  of  different  tribes, 
burial  in  trees  is  becoming  less  common.  His  relig- 
ious superstition  will  prevent  an  Indian  from  desecrat- 
ing the  grave  of  one  of  his  own  tribe,  but  he  has  no 
such  scrui^le  in  regard  to  the  graves  of  another  tribe. 
The  exposed  grave  of  a  chief,  or  warrior  of  means, 
presumably  containing  many  valuable  articles,  is  so 
great  a  temptation  to  Indians  of  other  tribes,  and  to 
the  worthless  whites  who  surround  the  agencies,  that 
almost  all  tribes  have  recently  taken  to  regular  burial 
in  the  ground. 

Apropos  to  this,  a  story  is  told  (for  which  I  do  not 
vouch)  of  a  recent  occurrence  at  the  Cheyenne  and 
Arrapahoe  Agency.  An  Indian  died  of  some  disease, 
or  in  some  way,  professionally  interesting  to  the 
doctors.  An  autopsy  was  determined  upon.  As  in 
their  belief,  the  cut  and  mutilated  body  would  ti-ans- 
mit  to  tlie  Happy  Hunting  Grounds  a  spectre  cut  and 
mutilated  in  the  same  way,  it  would  have  been  the 
height  of  absurdity  to  ask  the  fi-icnds  of  the  body  for 
permission  to  open  it.  It  was  determined  to  steal  it 
from  the  grave  at  night.  Unfortunately  for  the 
"body-snatchers,"  they  had  forgotten  that  the  female 
mourners  have  a  habit  of  going  to  the  grave  at  any 
hour  of  the  day  or  night,  for  a  consolatory  liowl.  The 
body  had  been  uncovered,  and  two  persons  were  in 
the  grave  in  the  act  of  lifting  it  out,  when  they  wei-e 
astounded  by  the  wail  of  half  a  dozen  women  who  had 
silently  surrounded  them.  Droj^ping  the  body,  tliey 
leaped  from  the  grave,  and  scurried  away  in  tlie  dark- 
ness. The  women,  terrified  at  this  sujHrnatural 
apparition,  set  up  a  truly  feminine  scream,  and  dart- 
ing back  to  camp,  soon  brought  the  whole  body  of 


-^f*** 


PPWiPPifi 


■•ii*^* 


■^K",  'fc'^  ,  ^  D^-  •^t  '{    t^  SE.    ■  J  '■%^,?°'^  **-'fl9-^^-t^  i^-^  »"      "  '    r  '^'r'V   *^    '■'■V  ^  t^t(  .»  ^    "t  i^'*         m  i^      ^       ^if  -FiT     t  V^"' 


FUXERAL    COLOR. 


163 


Indians  to  the  scene  of  action,  when  the  mystery  was 
explained.  The  "snatchers"  were  never  discovered, 
and  as  the  Indians  are  said  now  to  keep  watch  over 
their  new-made  graves,  no  further  attempts  in  that 
direction  are  reported. 

The  Sioux  seem  to  attach  some  special  importance 
to  green  as  a  funeral  coloi'.  I  have  never  seen  a 
Sioux  Indian  use  in  life  a  green  blanket,  but  in  all 
the  Sioux  gi'aves  examined  by  me,  the  remains  were 
found  wrapped  in  blankets  of  that  color.  The 
Chcyenncs  and  Arrapahoes  seem  to  have  no  special 
color. 

Among  the  Ute  Indians,  the  death-bed  scenes,  the 
preparatory  and  funeral  services,  and  the  place  and 
mode  of  Imrial,  are  even  to  this  day  profound  secrets 
to  all  but  themselves.  It  would  be  extremely  dan- 
gerous for  a  white  man  to  be  in  a  Ute  camp  when 
any  resident  of  it  died,  for  the  death  would  at  once 
be  attributed  to  the  malign  influence  of  the  white, 
and  his  life  would  proba])ly  be  the  penalty. 

Witliin  two  miles  of  my  camp,  on  the  Uncompagre 
River,  in  June,  1880,  I  discovered  a  Ute  camp  in 
wliieli  a  death  had  undoubtedly  occurred. 

The  lodge  covering  was  cut  to  useless  shreds,  the 
poles  ])i'oken,  the  bedding  (buffalo  rolies,  now  exceed- 
ijigly  valuable  to  the  Indian)  cut  up  and  thrown  awaj^, 
and  the  ground  all  round  littered  with  clothing,  Ijridles, 
Ijlaukets,  cooking  utensils,  tin-ware,  every  article  so 
torn  to  pieces,  or  cut  with  knife  or  hatchet  as  to  be 
entii'ely  worthless.  They  had  even  cut  down  trees 
across  the  ground,  to  prevent  its  again  being  used  for 
a  camp,  and  from  these  trees,  which  were  bare  of 
leaves  but  Avith  the  buds  considerably  swollen,  1 
judged  tlie  death  to  have  occurred  in  x\pril. 


■  'i' 


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■V^MTiaqpiT^Mi^ 


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1(H 


UTE   BURIAL. 


Mr.  Berry,  the  Indian  Agent  at  Los  Pinos,  informs 
me  that  he  has  never  himself  witnessed,  nor  lias  he 
ever  seen  a  white  man  who  had  witnessed,  the  funeral 
ceremonies  of  the  Utes,  nor  has  he  ever  seen  a  Ute 
grave,  or  any  white  man  who  had  seen  one. 

A  very  acute  and  observing  officer  of  the  at'iny 
tells  me  that  he  has  seen  a  Ute  grave  which  was  dis- 
covered by  accident.  When  on  a  scout,  some  one  of 
the  command  noticed  human  bones,  scattered  at  the 
foot  and  along  the  face  of  a  declivity  so  abrupt  as  to 
be  almost  inaccessible.  Following  upwards  with  great 
difficulty,  they  came  to  where  a  small  excavation  had 
been  made  hoi'izontally  into  the  almost  perpendicular 
face  of  the  hill.  This  excavation  had  been  carefully 
lined  with  a  wall  of  stones  cemented  together  Avith 
adobe  mud,  and  the  whole  inside  had  been  thickly 
l)lastered  with  the  same  material.  The  l)ody  had 
been  placed  within,  the  opening  Availed  up,  plastered 
thickly  on  the  outside  Avith  mud,  and  dry  earth  thrown 
over  the  Avhole  so  as  com])letely  to  conceal  it.  It  was 
only  AA'hcn  the  face  of  the  hill  Avas  Avashed  aAvay  by 
heaAy  rains  that  the  burial-place  Avas  disclosed. 

The  Utes  Avill  not  talk  about  their  dead  or  their 
graves,  diffi^'ing  in  this  from  all  other  Indians  of 
A\iiom  I  knoAV  anything.  The  Avhites  in  the  ])est 
position  to  learn  of  these  things  tell  me  that,  after 
the  body  is  dressed  for  burial,  it  is  taken  away  from 
camp  by  a  party,  and  bui'ied  in  such  a  place  and  mode 
as  I  have  des('j'il)ed.  After  the  bui'ial  is  completed 
the  footprints  of  the  party  are  cai'cfully  erased,  the 
place  and  e\'erything  connected  Avith  the  burial  re- 
maining a  profound  secret  froui  all  but  the  immedi- 
ate actors  in  the  scene.  There  are  said  to  be  tAvo 
graves  of  Ute  Indians  in  the  cemetery  at  the  Los 


■i^H^^^* 


V"»--**l-jr";:T  - 


DEATH   OF   OURAY. 


1G7 


I 


Pinos  iVgcmy,  but  they  are  of  Indians  connected  with 
the  agency,  and  were  buried  under  white  auspices. 

1  liave  in  my  possession  the  skull  of  a  young  Ute 
Indian  which  was  found  at  the  base  of  a  steep,  sharp 
hill.  I  doubt  not  that  the  grave  is  somewhere  in  the 
face  of  that  hill,  but  it  is  safe  from  mortal  eyes,  the 
hill  being  now  utterly  inaccessible  on  that  side. 

A  few  days  after  the  above  was  written,  Ouray, 
the  head  chief  of  the  Utes,  started  from  his  house, 
near  which  I  was  encamped,  across  the  country,  to 
meet  the  Indian  Commissioners  at  the  Southern  Ute 
Agency.  Soon  after  a  runner  came  for  the  agency 
doctor;  Ouray  was  very  sick.  In  a  week  we  heard 
he  was  dead.  He  was  chief  of  the  ten  or  twelve 
bands  of  Colorado  Utes,  commonly  known  as  the 
confederated  Utes ;  a  man  of  great  strength  of  char- 
acter, power,  and  influence. 

Having  .been  several  times  to  Washington,  he  had 
adopted,  as  far  as  was  possible  with  his  surroundings, 
the  habits  of  white  men.  He  lived  in  a  house  com- 
fortably furnished,  used  a  large  easy-chair,  took  his 
meals  at  a  table  supplied  with  proper  table  furniture, 
and  when  visited  by  a  guest  whom  he  wished  to 
honor,  he  brought  out  wine  and  cigars. 

For  some  years  he  had  been  in  receipt  of  a  salary 
of  one  thousand  dollars  a  year  fi'om  the  United  States 
Government,  and  he  died  probably  the  richest  Indian 
in  America.  He  died  away  from  home  at  the  agency 
of  the  Southern  Utes,  and  they  took  chai'ge  of  the 
body,  and  buried  it  after  the  Ute  custom. 

An  officer  who  was  present  writes  me  the  follow- 
ing account :  "  The  Indians  took  sole  charge  of  him 
during  his  sickness,  not  permitting  the  whites  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  him.     There  were  three 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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168 


oukay's  grave. 


white  doctors  present,  but  the  Indian  medicine  man 
held  his  j^ow-wows  so  continuously  that  his  white 
rivals  could  only  occasionally  get  into  the  tent.  All 
they  were  able  to  do  was  to  diagnose  the  case  (it  was 
Bright's  disease),  and  satisfy  themselves  that  they 
could  have  done  no  good  even  had  they  been  permit- 
ted to  act.  The  funeral  was  conducted  as  that  of  any 
otiier  (Ute)  Indian,  no  ceremony,  no  pomp.  When 
life  was  extinct,  they  wrapped  the  body  in  a  blanket, 
threw  it  across  a  horse,  and  accomjianied  by  a  few 
Uncompagre  Utes,  it  was  in  that  way  conveyed  to 
the  place  of  burial.  The  agent,  some  of  the  commis- 
sioners, officers,  other  whites,  and  Mariano,  a  Mexi- 
can, who  for  four  years  past  has  lived  in  the  most 
intimate  relationship  to  Ouray  (his  private  secretary), 
wanted  to  show  their  respect  by  going  to  the  funei-al, 
but  they  were  ordered  back  by  the  Indians.  Xo  one 
whatever  was  permitted  to  accompany  the  Imrial 
party,  and  no  one  knew,  nor  could  find  out,  the  place 
of  burial,  until  the  question  of  the  removal  of  the 
remains  to  the  Uncompagre  was  agitated.  The  Un- 
compagre Indians  were  very  anxious  that  this  should 
be  done,  and  the  Southern  UteS  m.iking  no  objection, 
some  of  the  burial  party,  two  weeks  after  the  burial, 
took  some  of  the  commissioners  and  officers  to  the 
sj^ot.  Tliey  found  the  body  deposited  in  a  natural 
cave,  the  entrance  to  which  had  been  walled  up  with 
rocks.  The  body  was  found  to  be  in  sucli  a  state 
that  the  effort  at  removal  was  abandoned.  There 
was  no  stone  oi  mark  to  indicate  the  grave,  nothing, 
except  at  a  little  distance  the  putrefying  carcasses  of 
five  horses,  that  had  been  killed  near  the  grave,  for 
his  service  in  the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds. 


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'i;:-  -T^X" 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MOUIIXING     FOR     THE     DEAD  —  HOW    INDIANS     FEEL 
AND    SHOW   THEIR   GRIEF. 

In  "  Sackcloth  and  Ashes  "  —  The  Mark  of  God's  Displeasure  —  Parental 
Anguish  —  The  Death  of  a  Son  —  A  Warrior's  Tearless  Eyes  —  Real 
Grief —  Mourning  for  a  Dead  Wife  —  What  Happens  at  the  Death  of 
a  Chief — IIow  the  Squaws  Mourn  —  A  Chorus  of  Howls  from  the 
"  Blessed  Sex  "  —  Self-Mutilation  —  Inflicting  Horrible  Woundy  — 
A  "  Good  Crj' "  versus  a  "  Good  Howl  "  —  Inconsolable  Widows  — 
Midnight  Wails — Letting  off  Superfluous  Unhappiness  —  Joining  in 
the  Howl  —  The  "  Luxury  of  Grief"  —  Vigorous  Lamentation  —  IIow 
an  Indian  Makes  his  Will  —  Scene  at  Ouray's  Death  Bed  —  His 
Will  —  Clamoring  for  the  Destvuotion  of  his  Property  —  A  Narrow 
Escape  —  The  Sacrifice  of  Seventeen  Horses  —  Firing  the  Pyre. 

>rr^        HE  mourning  of  the  Indian  is  an  active 
passion.     It  is  not  displayed  in  — 

"  inky  cloaks, 
Nor  customaiy  suits  of  solenm  black, 
Nor  windy  suspiration  of  forced  breath. 
No,  nor  the  fruitful  river  in  the  eye," 

"  These  indeed,  seem ; "  but  the  mourn- 
ing of  the  Indian  "  is." 
The  mourning  of  a  chief  over  a  beloved 
son  is  sublime  in  its  severe  simplicity.  Literally  in 
^  sackcloth  and  ashes  "  he  prostrates  himself  before 
his  gods.  He  has  not  the  verbosity  of  Job,  noi*  the 
sounding  phrases  of  the  Jews  in  their  lamentations. 
It  is  not  "Rachel  weeping  for  her  children,"  but  a 
man  on  whom  God  has  set  a  mark  of  heavy  displeas- 
ure.    He  mourns  not  only  the  taking  off  the  being 

169 


I 

-■>■■, 


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■^' 


*> . 


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■■'£ 


170 


THE    DISPLEASUEE   OF   GOD. 


dearest  to  his  heart,  and  more  to  him  than  life  itself, 
but  that  in  some  way  he  has  fallen  under  the  direct 
displeasure  of  God. 

If  the  son  was  killed  in  battle  and  not  scalped, 
there  is  nothing  to  moui-n  for  on  his  account.  He 
has  gone  direct,  in  all  his  youth  and  vigor,  to  enjoy 
an  eternity  of  youthful  pleasure.  The  blow  of  the 
All-Powerful  which  killed  the  son  was  really  aimed 
at  the  father. 

To  his  parental  and  jjcrsonal  anguish  is  added  the 
haunting  superstitious  dread  of  still  fiu-ther  persecu- 
tion by  the  Bad  God,  and  laxity  of  intervention  on 
the  part  of  the  Good  God. 

His  medicine  is  wrong! 

The  torture  that  rack  his  heart  and  torment  his 
brain  are  not  displayed  in  Avords.  Strij^ped  of  all 
clothing  save  his  breech-clout,  he  lies  for  days  prone 
on  the  dirt  of  his  lodge  floor,  or  squatted  alone  in  a 
corner.  His  hair,  of  which  ordinarily  lie  is  so  care- 
ful and  proud,  has  been  hacked  off  Avith  Ji, knife,  and 
stands  about  his  head,  neglected,  disordered,  and 
filled  with  earth.  His  eyes  are  tearless,  his  visage 
firm  and  solemn,  as  if  about  to  be  led  to  the  tortures 
of  the  stake.  His  j^erson  is  neglected.  He  is  a  mass 
of  filth  and  dirt. 

After  from  three  weeks  to  three  months,  according 
to  the  character  of  the  mourner,  he  is  induced  by  the 
importunities  of  his  friends  to  wash  and  dress  him- 
self, after  which  he  approaches  gradually  to  his  nor- 
mal condition. 

His  mourning  for  a  favorite  daughter  may  be 
attended  with  similar  Belf-abnegation  and  personal 
neglect,  but  its  duration  is  more  limited. 

His  mourning  for  his  wife,  the  mother  of  the  son 


«t*3» 


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MOLTRXINO    OF   WOMEN. 


171 


or  daughter  so  bewailed,  is  entirely  a  different  mat- 
ter. It  is  weakness  to  disjilay  anything  like  senti- 
ment in  the  marital  relation. 

Passion  is  manly,  sentiment  is  puerile.  The  dead 
wife  may  receive  the  honor  and  distinction  of  a  tree- 
burial,  but  the  bereaved  husband  recognizes  in  his 
loss  no  special  displeasure  of  God,  and,  therefore, 
mourns  with  a  "  mitigated  grief." 

Even  though  very  savage  the  Indian  is  very  human. 
He  may  deeply  feel  his  loss,  but  fashion  debars  him 
from  evincing  that  feeling.  Besides  this  there  are 
other  wives  in  the  lodge,  and  too  excessive  mourning 
for  the  dead  might  foster  unpleasant  jealousies  among 
the  living. 

Mourr.ing  is  regulated  somewhat  with  reference  to 
rank.  The  common  warrior  may  have  as  ardent 
sympathies  and  as  devoted  affection  as  the  chief,  but 
it  would  be  an  unwarranted  assumption,  almost  an 
impertinence,  to  permit  his  grief  to  manifest  itself  to 
the  same  extent.  Consequently  his  mourning,  though 
of  the  same  kind  and  quality,  is  less  abject,  and  much 
more  limited  in  duration. 

The  mourning  of  the  women  is  something  fearful. 
In  all  ages  and  climes  the  blessed  eex  have  arrogated 
to  themselves  the  right  of  exaggeration  in  all  matters 
of  sentiment  or  affection.  In  savage  life  the  woman's 
opportunities  for  display  in  all  these  feehngs  of  which 
she  claims  to  be  the  richest  possessor  and  best  judge, 
are  very  greatly  restricted.  She  makes  up  for  it,  to 
the  best  of  her  ability,  by  a  supernatural  extravagance 
on  every  occasion  when  custom  gives  her  the  right 
of  action. 

A  chief  has  three,  four,  or  more  wives.  They  are 
really  only   slaves.     He   treats   them  in  public   as 


'^i 


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■w,'.v«''  y 


172 


TERRIBLE    SELF-MUTILATION. 


servants,  and  gives  his  orders  with  a  considerate 
deference,  such  as  any  civilized  gentleman  might 
bestow  on  a  favorite  servant,  to  whom  forgetfulness 
and  disobedience  are  impossible.  Whatever  may  be 
their  private  feelings,  whatever  of  sentiment  or  dal- 
liance may  exist  in  their  personal  relations,  their 
external  bearing  and  conduct  arc  such  as  only  evi- 
dence the  relation  of  master  and  maid. 

The  chief  dies.  The  quiet  rivalry  of  attention  to 
his  wants  heretofore  only  displayed  by  them,  gives 
place  to  a  furious  rivalry  in  demonstrations  of  grief. 
All  howl  continuously  and  in  unison;  but  lest  the 
more  strongly-lunged  should  obtain  advantage  in  this 
exercise,  they  continue  the  rivalry  in  such  acts  of 
self-abasement  and  self-torture  as  are  almost  incred- 
ible. The  hair  is  hacked  off;  the  clothing  torn  from 
the  person;  ghastly,  horrible,  and  even  dangerous 
wounds  are  inflicted;  their  breasts  arc  slashed  open; 
their  arms  and  legs  slit  and  cut  with  knives;  their 
faces  and  persons  disfigured;  and  covered  with  blood, 
and  dirt,  and  filth,  ^hey  croon,  and  wail,  and  howl 
until  nature  is  exhausted.  It  is  only  wonderful  that 
death  does  not  more  frequently  ensue  from  these  self- 
inflicted  tortures,  for  the  women  appear  to  be  perfect 
maniacs  for  the  time,  and  cut  and  slash  themselves 
without  regard  to  consequences. 

The  mutilations  and  disfigurements  are  performed 
over  and  in  presence  of  the  dead  body.  Its  bmial 
puts  an  end  to  these,  but  the  mourning  continues  for 
any  unlimited  time  thereafter.  When  the  civilized 
woman  would  relieve  her  feelings  by  a  "good  cry," 
her  savage  sister  enjoys  a  go'^d  howl.  At  any  time 
of  the  day  or  night  some  of  the  bereaved  widows  may 
feel  in  the  humor  for  a  special  wail.    Its  first  soujid 


^ 


4 

ji 


X 


,iyHiMiijlll,ii» 


THE   PREROGATIVE   OF   GRIEF. 


173 


I 


'4 

I; 


«^ 


calls  up  the  others,  who  ai'e  not  to  be  outdone,  and 
all  proceeding  to  the  grave  howl  in  chorus  until  tired 
of  the  recreation.  Women  are  sympathetic.  The 
friends  of  the  widows  show  their  sympathy,  by  joining 
in  the  howl.  All  are  supposed  to  mourn  the  demise 
of  a  chief,  and  any  woman  of  the  band  or  tribe  who 
may  feel  somewhat  lugubrious,  or  disposed  to  have  a 
little  private  enjoyment,  may  proceed  to  the  grave 
and  let  off  her  superfluous  unhappiness  in  any  amount 
of  howling. 

I  have  elsewhere  spoken  of  the  "luxury  of  grief." 
The  term  is  strictly  correct  when  applied  to  the  grief 
of  an  Indian  woman.  She  has  always  In  store  a  large 
amount  of  lamentation ;  and,  however  long  the  person 
lamented  may  have  been  dead,  whether  a  relative, 
or  only  a  friend,  she  rarely  comes  within  reach  of  a 
gi'avc  without  raising  a  howl,  which  is  sure  to  start 
the  howl  of  others  equally  sympathetic. 

The  death  of  a  son  is  mourned  by  the  mother  with 
similar,  but  less  extensive,  manifestatio)is  of  grief. 
She  may  cut  her  breasts  or  arms,  but  they  are  far 
from  being  the  reckless,  half-crazy  slashes  of  the 
bereaved  widow.  Once  in  a  while,  one  or  more  of 
the  other  wives  may  feel  a  grief  sufficiently  jDoignant 
to  require  a  little  personal  blood-letting.  This,  how- 
ever, is  only  in  the  case  of  a  son  of  a  chief,  which  may 
be  regarded  as  a  national  calamity.  The  right  of 
every  woman  to  bewail  the  death  of  any  member  of 
the  tribe  is  conceded,  but  the  prerogatives  of  relation- 
ship are  held  very  sacred.  Cutting  one's  self  is  a 
manifestation  of  grief  only  permitted  to  the  closest 
relationship,  or  where  the  calamity  is  tribal. 

The  death  of  a  daughter  is  the  hardest  blow  to  an 
Indian   woman.     As  will   be   seen  further  on,   the 


■.m 


'^^M 


^ 


;-^>^'  1^      ■•■ 


'■■■-V?T-'" 


174 


MOURNING   ECSTASIES. 


daughter  is  the  only  person  in  the  tribe  to  whom  she 
can  look  for  full  sympathy  and  companionship,  yet 
she  cannot  signalize  her  sorrow  in  accordance  with 
her  savage  ideas  of  fitness.  Though  her  mother- 
heart  may  be  broken  with  the  loss,  she  cannot  man- 
ifest her  grief  by  personal  injury  and  disfigurement. 
She  can  only  mourn. 

Whatever  may  be  the  private  feelings  of  the  par- 
ents, there  is  no  special  manifestation  of  grief  for  the 
death  of  a  very  young  child;  indeed  it  is  generally 
believed  that  the  father  sometimes  kills  those  that  are 
sickly  or  idiotic.  I  have  known  but  few  deformed  or 
idiotic  Indians,  and  they  are  almost  invariably  the 
children  of  widows. 

Some  writers  have  stated  that  warriors  mourning 
for  sons  or  for  a  chief  frequently  mutilate  themselves 
by  cutting  off  one  or  more  fingers.  The  number  of 
men  who  have  lost  fingers  is  extremely  small  for  a 
people  so  prone  to  war.  In  every  case  where  I  have 
noticed  such  loss  and  asked  the  cause,  I  have  found 
that  it  was  eithei*  a  bullet,  or  some  accident  common 
to  those  Avho  manage  wild  and  vicious  horses. 

The  Chcyennes  and  Arrapahoes  laugh  at  the  idea 
of  self-inflicted  mutilation  by  a  warrior.  He  may 
cut  his  hair,  or  kill  a  horse,  but  cutting  their  own 
flesh  is  the  i)rerogative  of  women.  Whatever  it  may 
have  been  in  the  past,  no  such  custom  exists  among 
the  Plains  tribes  at  present. 

The  Utes  carry  their  mourning  ecstasies  to  great 
length.  Xot  content  with  killing  one  or  more  horses 
to  bear  the  shade  on  its  journey  to  the  Happy  Hunt- 
ing Grounds,  they  destroy  everything  of  which  the 
dead  dies  possessed.  "When,  therefore,  a  Ute  feels 
that  he  is  about  to  die,  the  relatives  and  friends  are 


] 

1 


■i:-i'»7;'''- jv',«r*>i','-"' 


THE   OLD   AGAINST   THE   NEW. 


175 


sent  for  and  formal  distribution  made  of  all  his  prop- 
erty. The  teepe  is  given  to  one  wife,  bedding  to 
another,  horses  to  wives,  ehildren,  or  friends,  in  short 
a  formal  will  is  made,  and  the  property  handed  over 
then  and  there.  Women  also  make  their  wills,  divid- 
ing out  their  dresses,  trinkets,  etc.  Everything,  no 
no  matter  how  valuable  or  how  worthless,  not  given 
away  before  death,  is  ruthlessly  destrojTd. 

Ouray  died  away  from  home  and  without  making  a 
will.  Ouray  was  '^Avise  in  his  generation,"  and  very 
rich.  When  it  was  positively  known  in  the  tribe  that 
Ouray  was  dead,  nearly  every  Indian  of  the  Uncom- 
pagi-e  band  collected  at  his  house  and  made  prepara- 
tions for  the  destruction  of  all  his  property.  In  great 
alarm  Chipita,  his  widow,  sent  for  Mr.  Berry,  the 
Indian  Agent.  He  arrived  just  in  time.  Using  all 
his  influence  and  elorpience,  and  working  with  them 
all  day,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  promise  from  a 
large  majority  that  no  harm  should  be  done  to  Chipita 
or  the  property.  Leaving  some  seventy  Indians  on 
guiu-d  about  the  premises  he  returned  to  the  agency. 

But  the  malcontents  had  very  strong  grounds  to 
woi'k  on,  and  when  Mr.  Berry  had  gone  they  renewed 
their  arguments,  protesting  against  this  violation  of 
their  ancient  and  honored  customs,  and  predicting 
the  dire  punishment  of  God.  Custom  and  supersti- 
tion so  far  prevailed  that  after  wrangling  half  the 
night,  the  followers  of  the  "  white  man's  road  "  were 
glad  to  effect  a  compromise,  turning  over  to  the  oth- 
ers seventeen  horses  for  sacrifice. 

Ouray's  house  is  built  on  a  bluff  bank,  some  thirty 
feet  high,  overlooking  the  bed  of  the  Uncompagre 
River.  Directly  under  a  perpendicular  part  of  this 
bank  the  Indians  piled  an  immense  quantity  of  dry 

12 


^■^ 


176 


•-.If .-.»/«.,  ■'■^■, 


■'',"-;  r*  itr»  ^ ';  vv . ." 


FIRING   THE  PTRE. 


driftwood.  The  seventeen  horses  were  led  one  by 
one  to  the  edge  of  this  bank,  killed,  and  their  bodies 
tumbled  on  to  the  pile  of  wood.  When  all  had  been 
killed  the  pyre  was  fired,  and  the  spirits  of  the  horses 
sent  to  join  their  master.  These,  with  the  five  killed 
at  the  grave,  will  give  him  a  comfortable  start  in  his 
new  liie. 


I- 

4- 


w 


t: 


J- 


-i»- 


+ 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  FUTURE  LIFE — THE  INDIAN'S  IDEA  OF  IIEAYEN — 
THE  HAPPY  HUNTING  GROUNDS. 

Conceptions  of  the  Hereafter  —  Indian  Horror  of  Being  Strangled 
or  Scalped  Explained  —  An  Eternity  of  Green  Fields  and   Pastures 

—  Equipped  for  the  Long  Journey — Death  Overcome — Toucliing 
Traits  of  Charai'ter  —  Complete  Outfit  for  the  Dead  —  The  War- 
rior's Grave  —  Starvation  and  Death  Preferred  to  Robbing  the  Dead 

—  How  Phj'sical  Defects  arc  Carried  into  the  Next  World  — Fate 
of  an  Emaciated  Form —Mutilations  of  the  Body  —  Transfixed 
with  Arrows  —  A  Dismal  Superstition  —  Why  Indians  Rarely  Make 
Night  Attacks  — The  Effect  of  Being  Killed  in  the  Dark  — Crawling 
into  Camp  —  Stealth  and  Cunning  —  Avenging  the  Slain  —  Incident 
of  the  Campaign  of  1873  —  Fate  of  a  Band  of  Surveyors. 

O  religion  has  been  able  to  give  a  satis- 
factory idea  of  heaven.  It  is  not, 
therefore,  a  matter  of  wonder  that  the 
Indian's  idea  of  the  future  life  in  the 
Happy  Hunting  Grounds  is  as  vague, 
confused,  indefinite,  and  inconsistent  as 
is  possible  to  conceive.  He  believes  he 
will  be  happy,  perfectly  happy,  but  of 
the  how,  why  or  wherefore,  he  not  only 
knows  nothing,  but  evidently  doubts  his  belief  to  such 
extent  that  a  few  pertinent  questions  will  throw  him 
off  his  balance,  and  send  him  all  agog. 

He  accepts  what  the  medicine  chief  and  old  men 
tell  him  as  a  faith,  something  to  be  taken  without 
inquiry  or  discussion;  pin  him  down  to  his  belief  and 
his  reasons  for  it,  and  he  becomes  "dumb  as  an 
oyster." 

177     . 


jL 


178 


A   WIDE   CREED. 


The  medicine  chief  flouts  discussion.  The  thing  is 
so  because  he  says  it  is  so.  To  doubt  is  sacrilege,  and 
the  doubter  "  little  better  than  one  of  the  wicked."  If 
beaten  out  of  his  reasons  for  belief,  he  takes  refuge  in 
the  belief  itself.  Faith  is  the  foundation  of  every 
religious  edifice.  Believe  open-eyed  or  blindly,  with 
reason  or  without  reason,  but  believe. 

The  Indian  creed  is  a  wide  one,  for  all  persons,  of 
all  ages,  sexes,  colors,  or  beliefs,  who  die  unsealped 
or  unstrangled,  will  meet  in  that  final  "haven  of 
bliss."  He  goes  there  just  as  he  was  here,  with  the 
same  passions,  feelings,  wishes  and  needs.  Ilis  favor- 
ite pony  is  killed  at  his  burying-place,  to  enjoy  an 
eternity  of  beautiful  pasture  and  to  bear  his  master 
in  war  or  in  the  chase. 

He  will  need  arms  to  defend  himself  against  ene- 
mies (man  or  beast) ;  his  rifle,  pistol,  bow  and  quiver 
are  buried  with  him.  He  will  need  fire;  so  flint  and 
steel,  or  a  box  of  matches,  go  towards  the  outfit  for  his 
final  journey. 

There  is  no  death  in  that  life;  but  wounds  and  pain, 
hunger  and  thirst,  love,  revenge,  ambition,  all  the  pas- 
sions, or  incentives  to  action,  are  there.  The  Indian 
knows  no  happiness  in  this  life,  except  in  the  gratifi- 
cation of  his  natural  appetites.  His  future  life  will 
develop  greater  capacity  and  wider  opportunity  for 
the  enjoyment  of  those  appetites. 

How  an  unhappy  disposition  here  can  be  happy 
there,  he  does  not  try  to  explain.  He  has  no  con- 
ception of,  or  belief  in,  any  special  divinity  presiding 
over  the  future  state;  consequently  he  cannot  con- 
ceive of  a  special  miracle  in  each  case  fitted  to  the 
necessity  of  the  beneficiary. 

He  will  meet  enemies,  whom,  however,  he  strives 


cahryino  his  wealth  with  him. 


179 


t 


to  inalcc  few  in  that  world,  by  scalping  as  many  as 
possible  in  this.  He  will  encounter  dangerous  beasts; 
for  the  spirits  or  pbautoms  of  all  animals,  reptiles, 
birds,  insects,  and  fishes,  go  also  to  the  Happy  Hunt- 
ing Grounds.  In  short,  the  next  world  is  to  be  an 
intensified  continuation  of  this,  deaUi  alone  overcome. 

The  conception  of  the  abolition  of  death  in  the 
future  state  seems  to  be  attended  with  a  doubt  or 
modification.  He  expects  to  kill  and  eat  all  the  game 
he  wishes;  to  clothe  himself  with  the  skins  of  animals; 
to  fight  with,  and  even  take  the  scalps  of,  his  enemies; 
but  what  becomes  of  the  phantoms  of  animals,  or  the 
spirits  of  scalped  ghosts  of  men,  is  a  problem  which 
he  wisely  leaves  foi*  future  solution. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  will  be  truly  inferred 
that  not  only  animals,  but  inanimate  nature  is  repre- 
sented in  the  future  state.  All  things  which  the 
Indian  can  make  for  himself  in  this  life  he  can  make 
in  the  next;  consequently  there  is  no  need  to  take 
that  class  of  things  along  with  him.  He  can  there 
procure  skins  for  his  clothing  and  for  his  lodge,  robes 
for  his  bed,  etc.  But  articles  beyond  his  skill  in  man- 
ufacture, gun,  powder,  lead,  caps,  knife,  blankets,  and 
an  iron  pot  for  cooking,  must  all  be  carried  into  the 
next  world  by  the  dead  man,  who  is,  moreover,  buried 
in  shirt,  pants,  and  coat  of  civilized  manufacture,  or 
as  many  of  these  articles  as  the  owner  possessed  dur- 
ing life. 

The  Indian  understands  perfectly  well  that  the  dead 
does  not  actually  tftke  with  him  into  the  next  world 
the  material  articles  buried  with  him  in  this,  for  some 
of  them  are  hung  around  the  burial  place  exposed  to 
view.  He  believes,  however,  that  if  the  articles  are 
allowed  to  remain  with  or  near  the  body  until  the  soul 


■y.'M 


'^'■''   s^'-'-T' 


180 


MISFORTUNE    BEYOND   THE   GRAVE. 


f^' 


reaches  its  j)ara(1ise,  the  spirit  of  the  dead  man  will 
have  in  the  next  world  the  use  of  the  phantasms  of 
those  articles. 

The  most  tonching  trait  of  Indian  character  is  the 
univei'sal  desire  that  the  dead  shall  enter  the  Happy 
Hunting  Grounds  with  as  complete  an  outfit  as  pos- 
sible. Any  article  supjoosed  necessary  in  the  future 
state,  which  the  dead  man  did  not  possess  in  life,  is 
at  once  supplied  by  relatives  or  fi'iends,  often  at  con- 
siderable sacrifice. 

"Whatever  the  absolute  needs  of  an  Indian  life, 
there  is  no  known  instance  of  liis  despoiling,  to 
satisfy  them,  the  grave  or  burial-place  of  another 
Indian  of  his  own  tribe.  He  will  go  hungry  from 
lack  of  means  to  kill  game,  though  he  knows  a 
dozen  trees  containing  graves,  in  each  of  which  are 
gun,  powder  and  lead. 

The  personal  misfortunes  and  peculiarities  which 
an  Indian  has  in  life  stick  to  him  beyond  the  grave. 
A  one-legged  man  in  life  is  one-legged  to  all  eter- 
nity. OiK}  who  loses  his  sight  hei-e  gropes  blind 
through  the  Happy  Hunting  Gi'ounds.  Time  is  no 
more.  Thei'C  is  no  growing  older  there,  conse- 
quently every  one  remains  forever  at  exactly  the 
age  at  which  he  entered  the  new  life.  The  puling 
infant,  the  decrepit  hag,  the  young  viigin,  the  stal- 
wart warrior,  as  each  dies,  so  shall  he  or  she  remain 
to  all  eternity.  Those  who  are  so  fortunate  as  to  die 
by  quick  disease  take  with  them  to  the  Hapj^y  Hunt- 
ing Grounds  no  reminders  of  pain :  but  a  body  emaci- 
ated and  distorted  by  chronic  disease  sends  on  the 
long  journey  a  soul  which  must  suffer  always  in  the 
same  way. 

A  warrior  killed  in  battle  and  not  mutilated,  shows, 


ppHWPiPpi 


yi^'i.srri'^i . 


HAPPINESS   OF   PARADISE. 


181 


in  the  future  life,  no  sign  of  wound;  but  if  the  soul 
be  not  annihilated  by  scalping,  every  mutilation  in- 
flicted on  the  body  after  death  also  mutilates  the 
soul.  If  the  head,  or  hands,  or  feet  are  cut  off,  or 
the  body  ripped  open  after  death,  the  soul  will  so 
appear  and  exist  in  the  Hippy  Hunting  Gi'ounds. 
Some  believe  that  if  the  dead  body  is  transfixed  with 
arrows  and  left  to  decay,  the  soul  must  always  wear 
and  suffer  from  the  phantasms  of  those  arrows.  This 
accouiits  for  this  habit,  quite  common,  especially  with 
the  Sioux,  and  for  the  great  apparent  waste  of  arrows. 
If  a  body  so  found,  f)ierced  with  many  arrows,  is  un- 
scalped,  it  was  the  vindictive  purpose  of  the  mur- 
derers forever  to  torment  the  soul.  If  the  head  was 
scalped,  the  shooting  was  in  mere  bravado  and  cruel 
wantonness. 

I  have  taken  great  interest  in  patiently  studying 
out  the  vai'ied  and  ingenious  developments  of  thought 
by  which  the  Indian  seeks  to  reconcile  these  beliefs 
with  the  idea  of  happiness  in  the  future  state.  He 
does  this  to  his  own  entire  satisfaction  by  his  abun- 
dance of  faith.  His  belief  as  to  the  effect  on  the 
soul  of  certain  previous  conditions  of  life  and  death 
are,  accoi'ding  to  his  ideas,  solidly  founded  on  reason. 
His  belief  in  the  perfect  happiness  of  his  Paradise  is 
purely  a  matter  of  faith. 

Another  well-known  superstition  of  the  Plains 
Indians  is,  that  a  man  killed  in  the  dark  will  dwell 
in  darkness  throughout  eternity.  This,  for  the  white 
man,  is  a  most  fortunate  ])elief,  and  materially  lessens 
the  dangers  and  labors  of  the  troops.  With  their 
stealth,  craft,  patience  and  knowledge  of  the  coun- 
try, the  Indians  would  be  truly  terrible  in  night 
attacks.    As  it  is,  such  an  attack  is  very  rare,  and, 


n'j'^  ■;■. -..■■■■■i'u;'w:(. 


■%  ~ 


m 


r 


N^' 


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%■ 


!   >V 


•:•(  r-i  >r -.'if^ '''^M: v  '-y ; i  *?■ ' .;  ■■  •->'j ;,';-  ■• 


182 


APPEASDiTG  TILE   SHADES. 


when  decided  upon,  is  invariably  made  by  moonlight. 
They  will  crawl  into  a  camp  and  steal  horses,  and 
may  sometimes  fire  a  few  shots  into  it  from  a  dis- 
tance; but  on  a  dark  night  there  is  little  danger, 
even  though  surrounded  by  the  most  hostile  Indians. 

In  common  with  the  ancients  of  our  history,  the 
Indians  believe  that  the  manes  or  shades  of  the  de- 
parted slain  in  battle  require  to  be  appensed  by  the 
death  of  the  slayer,  if  possible;  or,  ftuling  his,  by 
that  of  some  one  of  the  slayer's  nation  or  tribe. 

In  the  spring  of  1873  a  band  of  Cheyennes  on  a 
marauding  expedition  to  'New  Mexico  were  sui-prised 
by  troops,  and  some  six  or  eight  killed.  When  the 
survivors  reached  home  with  the  news,  the  most  fear- 
ful excitement  prevailed  throughout  the  Indian  camp, 
and  a  party  was  at  once  made  up  to  go  to  the 
settlements  to  obtain  white  victims  in  retaliation. 
Fortunately  for  the  unprepared  settlers,  but  most 
unfortunately  for  themselves,  a  small  party  of  sur- 
veyors wci'c  at  work  on  the  route  of  the  Indian 
march.  They  were  set  upon  by  the  Indians,  who, 
when  they  had  killed  a  number  sufficient  to  aj)pease 
the  shades  of  their  slain  friends,  returned  satisfied  to 
their  encampment  without  molesting  the  settlers. 

Two  or  more  warrioi's  of  contiguous  triljcs  have  a 
collision  in  which  one  is  killed.  His  relations  and 
friends  seek  every  opportunity  to  retaliate  by  killing 
one  or  more  of  the  relatives  of  the  slayer.  Their 
shades  appeal  in  tui'n  to  their  friends  for  appease- 
ment, and  in  course  of  time  what  may  have  arisen 
in  a  mere  broil  between  two  half-drunken  bucks,  has 
widened  and  deepened  until  almost  every  famil}'  of 
each  tribe  has  a  blood  feud  with  one  or  more  families 
of  the  other. 


■-^■,'   ■^-*  *i"--| 


"i^j.x''*.''  l-Pi.-.-*'  ^>i','.,\'-ti-.»S'T 


^'^i^:.^^'Jr*L^SM->\.■.'**..'^■■y'*L•^*^' 


-'.'iSf^jA 


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4. 


fr>!J>'*;i<(J',i" 


f 


CHAPTER  XrV. 


t 


CHILDHOOD   AND    YOUTH  —  LIFE    AND    TRAINING  OP 
INDIAN  BOYS  AND   GIRLS. 

The  Redskin  Baby  —  An  Original  Outfit  —  Feathei-s  and  Far  —  A  Real 
"  Nest  of  Comfort "  —  Tossed  into  a  Corner  —  "  In  the  Tree  Top  "  — 
Learning  to  Ride  —  Stopping  the  Baby's  Ciy  —  A  Novel  Method  — 
Rough  Scliooling  —  Adoption  of  Captive  Children  —  The  Comanche 
Women  —  A  Coveted  Baby  —  Ready  to  Swap  or  Buy  —  An  Inter- 
esting Experience  —  The  Warrior's  Pride  —  A  Touching  Story  — 
Bound  to  the  Stake  —  The  Old  Chief's  Sacrifice  —  Childliood  Sports  — 
Freedom  of  the  Lodge  —  Trained  for  the  Chase  —  Roaming  at  Large 

—  Cold-Blooded  Atrocities  —  Dai'ing  Attacks  —  In  Pursuit  of  Fame 

—  A  Momentous  Hour  —  What  I  saw  at  an  Indian  Dance  —  Matri- 
monial Hankerings  —  Mamed  at  Sixteen  —  Old  Age  at  Thirty-five. 

^S  soon  as  the  Indian  baby  is  born  it  is 
placed  in  a  coffin-shaped  receptacle, 
where  it  passes  nearly  the  whole  of 
the  first  year  of  its  existence,  being 
taken  ont  only  once  or  twice  a  day 
for  washing  or  change  of  clothing. 
This  clothing  is  of  the  most  primitive 
character,  the  baby  being  simply  swad- 
dled in  a  dressed  deer-skin  or  piece  of 
thick  cotton  cloth,  which  envelopes  the  whole  body 
below  the  neck.  The  outside  of  the  cradle  varies 
with  the  wealth  or  taste  of  the  mother,  scarcely  two 
being  exactly  alike.  Some  are  elaborately  orna- 
mented with  furs,  feathers,  and  bead  work,  others  are 
perfectly  plain.  Whatever  the  outside,  the  cases 
themselves  are  nearly  the  same. 

185 


.  A- '  'J.V«i:i; «:  l>ii  :  ii',' 


h-l)'.s.  3!k  .^;.  iSik  ;-i  j;  W 


186 


IN    THE    TREE-TOP. 


A  piece  of  dried  buffalo  hide  is  cut  into  proper 
shape,  then  turned  on  itself  and  the  front  fastened 
with  strings.  The  foce  is  always  exj^osed.  The 
whole  is  then  tightly  fastened  to  a  board,  or  in  the 
most  approved  cradles,  to  two  narrow  pieces  of  board 
joined  together  in  the  form  of  an  X.  It  forms  a  real 
"  nest  of  comfort,"  and  as  the  Indian  is  not  a  stickler 
on  the  score  of  cleanliness,  it  is  the  very  best  cradle 
that  they  could  adopt.  To  the  board  or  boards  is 
attached  a  strap,  which,  passed  over  the  head,  rests 
on  the  mother's  chest  and  shoulders,  leaving  the  arms 
free.  When  about  the  lodge  the  mother  stands  the 
ci'adle  in  some  out  of  the  way  corner,  or  in  fine 
weather  against  a  tree;  or  if  the  wind  is  blowing 
fresh  it  is  hung  to  a  branch,  where  it  fulfils  all  the 
promise  of  the  nursery  rhyme. 

When  the  baby  is  ten  months  to  a  year  old  it  is 
released  from  its  confinement,  and  for  a  year  or  two 
more  of  its  life  takes  its  short  journeys  on  its  mother's 
back  in  a  simple  way.  It  is  placed  Avell  up  on  her 
back  betAveen  the  shoulders;  the  blanket  is  then 
thrown  over  bot'n,  and  being  drawn  tightly  at  the 
front  of  her  neck  by  the  mother,  leaves  a  fold  behind, 
in  which  the  little  one  rides  securely,  and  appai'cntly 
without  the  slightest  inconvenience  to  either  rider  or 
ridden.  I  have  seen  a  Nez  Perce  woman  play  a 
vigorous  game  of  ball  with  a  baby  on  her  back. 

On  long  journeys,  or  when  changing  camp,  the 
children  too  heavy  to  carry  on  the  mother's  backs, 
but  too  young  to  ride  on  horseback,  are  confined  in 
a  Avicker  cage,  which  is  fastened  on  the  lodge-poles 
which  trail  alongside  of  some  reliable,  steady-going 
old  horse,  an  arrangement  called  a  "  travois  "  by  the 
French  trappers. 


-T 


.•J4.:<ift',' 


:.»I>iV-fi 


SMOTHERING    THE   CRY. 


187 


+ 


J^StauAvl^lSL    - 


For  a  little  while  thereaflor  they  may  be  momitccl 
before  or  behind  the  mother,  but  by  the  tim-^  tlicy  are 
four  years  old  they  are  considered  quite  large  enough 
to  ride  by  themselves. 

At  first,  to  prevent  any  possibility  of  their  falling 
off,  they  are  tied  by  a  complicated  set  of  straps  to  the 
saddle  of  a  steady  horse,  which  is  then  turned  loose, 
and  in  the  movement  of  a  camp  the  little  urchins  of 
that  unpleasant  age  will  be  seen  seated  on  the  tops 
of  packs,  in  apparently  the  most  uncomfortable  posi- 
tions, but  hajipy,  or  at  least  resigned.  This  rough 
schooling  soon  tells,  and  at  an  incredibly  early  age, 
the  children  of  both  sexes  are  worthy  scions  of  the 
parent  stock  of  riders,  unsurpassed  by  any  in  the 
world. 

Children  arc  highly  prized  by  every  Indian  man. 
The  wife  who  brings  him  most  sons  is  the  most 
honored,  though  not  always  most  favored. 

While  the  child,  either  boy  or  girl,  is  very  young, 
the  mother  has  entire  charge,  control,  and  manage- 
ment of  it.  It  is  soon  taught  not  to  cry  by  a  very 
summary  process.  When  it  attempts  to  "  set  up  a 
yell,"  the  mother  covers  its  mouth  with  the  palm  of 
her  hand,  grasps  its  nose  between  her  thumb  and 
forefinger,  and  holds  on  until  the  little  one  is  nearly 
suflbcated.  It  is  then  let  go,  to  be  seized  and 
smothered  again  at  the  first  attempt  to  cry.  The 
baby  very  soon  comprehends  that  silence  is  the  best 
policy. 

Almost  as  soon  as  the  male  child  is  weaned,  its 
control  is  taken  from  the  mother,  and  it  becomes 
practically  its  own  master.  The  mother  is  never  per- 
mitted to  strike  a  boy,  no  matter  what  his  fault.  She 
may,  however,  punish  him  by  refusing  food  or  pulling 


■    1^ 


A-.'iJi,      -^- 


-'V**- "■[**•'•  ^''~'"  ''*;*'^  i»  r^  c.^'-}  -T-"^-'*' ' 


188 


SWAPPING   BABIES. 


yff-^ 


liis  hair.  Amoiig  those  Indians  who  live  habitually 
about  the  agencies,  this  exemption  from  whipping, 
though  still  the  rule,  has  frequent  exceptions,  and  a 
mother,  worried  out  of  all  patience  by  a  troublesome 
urchin,  will  give  him  a  vigorous  box  on  the  ear  and 
send  him  sjiraAvling  to  the  ground.  The  discretion 
of  tlie  father  generally  blinds  him  to  such  little  ex- 
hibitions of  feminine  temper. 

The  mother  retains  her  control  over  her  girls  until 
they  are  young  women,  and  whatever  comfort  she 
dei'ives  from  her  children  is  from  them. 

Though  almost  all  Indian  women  are  anxious  to 
have  childi'cn,  and  evince  great  fondness  for  them, 
the  maternal  instinct  does  not  appear  to  be  very 
strongly  developed.  All  are  what  we  call '' motherly," 
having  the  disposition  to  love  children,  whether  their 
own,  or  those  of  other  people.  An  infant  which  has 
lost  its  mother  is  assiduously  and  tenderly  cared  for 
by  the  nursing  mothers  of  the  band,  and  a  very  young 
captive  child  is  sure  to  be  adopted,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  in  a  family  Avhere  there  are  other  children. 
The  affection  seems  to  be  a  general  one,  and  some- 
what dependent  on  the  beauty  and  sprightliness  of 
the  child.  I  was  stationed  at  a  post  in  Texas  much 
visited  by  the  Comanches.  A  brother  officer  had  a 
beautiful  healthy  boy  baby.  When  it  was  eight  or 
ten  months  old,  yet  unable  to  walk,  it  was  habitually, 
during  the  day,  placed  in  a  baby-jumper  on  the  back 
piazza  of  his  house.  It  was  soon  discovered  by  the 
squaws,  who,  crowding  around,  spent  hours  each  day 
in  admiration  of  its  beauty,  and  its  (to  them)  wonder- 
ful jumps  and  capers.  Scarce  one  of  them  but  made 
propositions,  either  to  swap  their  own  babies  for,  or 
to  buy  it,  and  the  officer's  young  wife  was  kept  in  a 


1 


'  ■J'^  ./s^''-  ■ 


DEVOTION   OF   BI-ANS-WAH. 


189 


«r.  I 


T 


constant  state  of  watchfulness  and  anxiety  lest  they 
should  steal  it. 

Though  the  mother  has  all  the  trouble  and  worry  of 
the  children,  the  father  seems  to  have  the  strongest 
love  for  them,  and  this  is  especially  the  case  with 
sons.  His  pride  in  and  affection  for  them  knows  no 
bounds.  They  keep  alive  his  ambition,  and  in  their 
brave  deeds  he  renews  his  youthful  fire  and  vigor.  I 
have  heard  many  instances  of  the  strength  of  this 
affection,  but  that  most  touching  is  the  one  given  by 
Schoolcraft. 

In  a  war  between  the  Chippewas  and  allied  Foxes 
and  Sioux,  the  Foxes  captured  the  son  of  an  old  and 
celebrated  chief,  Bi-ans-wah.  The  old  man  hearing 
the  terrible  news,  and  knowing  the  sure  destiny  of 
his  son,  followed  alone  the  trail  of  the  enemy,  and 
"  reached  the  Fox  village  while  they  were  in  the  act 
of  kindling  the  fire  to  roast  him  alive.  He  stepped 
boldly  into  the  arena  .ind  offered  to  take  his  son's 
place. 

" '  My  son,'  said  he,  *  has  seen  but  a  few  winters, 
his  feet  have  never  trod  the  war-path,  but  the  hairs  of 
my  head  are  white,  I  have  hung  many  scalps  over  the 
graves  of  my  relatives,  which  I  have  taken  from  the 
heads  of  your  warriors ;  kindle  the  fire  about  me  and 
send  my  son  home  to  my  lodge.'  The  offer  Avas 
accepted,  and  the  old  man,  without  deigning  to  utter 
a  groan,  was  burnt  at  the  stake." 

The  Indian  father's  affection  for  his  daughters  is 
open  to  the  suspicion  of  interest.  They  are,  if  toler- 
ably good-looking,  a  sure  source  of  revenue  Avhen 
marriageable,  and  his  affection  for  them  does  not  blind 
him  to  the  superior  argument  of  the  highest  bidder. 

The  little  children  are  much  petted  and  spoiled; 


"■'^■.  'ii 


t< 


M 


r 


■l' 


I'Uis:'*, 


'v-iv'''<V'^»r 


;rrr  if  Tim'-i 


190 


LITTLE   PITCHERS. 


\ 


tumbling  and  climbing,  unreproved,  over  the  father 
and  his  visitors  in  the  lodge,  and  never  seem  to  be  an 
annoyance  or  in  the  way. 

The  boys  grow  up  as  it  happens,  without  moral 
restraint  of  any  kind,  and  subjected  only  to  the  mild, 
paternal  control  of  the  father,  in  such  duties  as  are 
necessary  to  supply  the  family  with  food,  and  to 
watch  and  care  for  its  stock. 

The  girls  are  early  taught  the  lessons  of  subordi- 
nation, and  begin  to  labor  almost  as  soon  as  they  can 
walk. 

It  is  very  rare  to  see  Indian  boys  and  girls  of  over 
five  or  six  years  playing  togethei*;  all  the  boys  of  and 
above  that  age  have  bows  and  arrows,  and,  collected 
in  squads,  they  roam  about  the  country  in  the  vicinity 
of  their  camp,  shooting  at  every  animal  or  bird  that 
shows  itself,  and  thus  early  beginning  the  lessons  of 
their  life.  The  little  girls  are  very  fond  of  dolls? 
which  their  mothers  make  and  dress  with  consider- 
able skill  and  taste.  Their  baby  houses  are  miniature 
teepes,  and  they  spend  as  much  time  and  take  as  much 
pleasure  in  slich  play  as  white  girls. 

After  they  get  out  of  their  cradles,  Indian  children 
are  never  "put  to  bed"  until  they  go  to  sleep  of  their 
own  accord,  but  are  "au  courant"  of  everything  that 
goes  on  in  the  lodge,  or  in  all  out-door  amusements 
and  ceremonies.  They  are  debarred  only  from  the 
council  lodge.  As  "  little  pitchers  have  big  ears " 
they  are  very  precocious,  and  an  Indian  boy  or  girl  of 
six  years  knows  more  of  the  possibilities  of  the  future 
than  an  American  child  of  fifteen  or  sixteen. 

He  is  a  natural  animal.  He  knows  nothing  of 
right  and  wrong,  as  w^e  understand  those  terms.  'No 
dread  of  punishment  restrains  him  from  any  act  that 


CANDIDATE    FOR  WARRIOR. 


191 


I 


boyish  fun  or  fury  may  prompt.  No  softening  stories 
of  good  little  boys  arc  poured  into  his  attentive  ears 
at  a  mother's  knee.  No  lessons  inculcating  the  beauty 
and  sure  reward  of  goodness,  or  the  hideousness  and 
certain  punishment  of  vice,  are  ever  virasted  on  him ; 
wasted,  for  virtue  and  vice  are  abstract  terms,  utterly 
incomprehensible  to  him. 

The  men  by  whom  he  is  surrounded,  and  to  whom 
he  looks  as  models,  are  great  and  renowned  just 
in  proportion  to  their  ferocity,  to  the  scalps  they 
have  taken  or  the  horses  they  have  stolen.  His  ear- 
liest boyish  memory  is  probably  a  dance  of  rejoicing 
over  the  scalps  of  strangers,  all  of  whom  he  is  taught 
to  regard  as  enemies.  The  acclamations  which 
rewarded  each  warrior  as  he  bounded  into  the  circle, 
and  in  glowing  words  described  the  conflict  and  the 
death  of  the  enemy,  have  influenced  his  imagination, 
and  he  yearns  for  the  time  when  he  can  take  his  part 
in  fight  and  foray,  and  for  opportmiity  to  signalize  his 
craft  and  courage. 

At  twelve  or  thirteen  these  yearnings  can  no  longer 
be  repressed ;  and  banded  together,  the  youths  of  from 
twelve  to  sixteen  years  roam  over  the  country;  and 
some  of  the  most  cold-blooded  atrocities,  daring 
attacks,  and  desperate  combats,  have  been  made  by 
these  children  in  pursuit  of  fame. 

From  each  of  these  excursions  return,  with  crest 
erect  and  backbone  stiffened,  one  or  more  youngsters, 
whose  airs  and  style  proclaim  that  each  has  made  his 
coup,  and  is  henceforth  candidate  for  the  distinction 
of  warrior. 

The  chiefs  and  warriors  "ssemble  in  general  coun- 
cil and  with  the  utmost  gravity  listen  to  the  claims  of 
the  candidates.    Each  in  turn,  frenzied  with  excite- 


_./).,,' 


'%' 


'«>*': 


"V 


v'U 


»';i'Wli..'',*!iK„-.»!i!.',la  .,;*■'!. 


f^M' 


'■  V' ■'.■'•.••■"■"•'■  JT"''  •"  '7;-T'5' ■*'»»'  ♦.■;■■'■■»-»  J":  ^^'i 


192 


A    DOG-SOLDIER. 


ment,  with  bounds  and  yells  and  frantic  gestures, 
pours  forth,  in  almost  incoherent  language,  a  recital 
of  the  special  deeds  on  which  he  bases  his  claim. 
When  conflicting  claims  are  made  by  the  candidates, 
as  is  almost  sure  to  be  the  case,  their  companions 
on  the  excursion  are  called  on  for  their  statements; 
and  when  all  the  testimony  is  in,  the  candidates,  their 
friends,  comrades,  and  spectators,  are  turned  out  of 
the  council,  which  then  proceeds  to  deliberate. 

After  some  time,  the  names  of  the  hapi)y  few  are 
proclaimed  formally  and  loudly  from  the  door  of  the 
council  lodge. 

Until  within  a  very  few  years,  the  initiation  Avas  a 
religious  as  well  as  a  military  ceremony,  and  varied 
with  each  tribe.  The  process  in  the  most  warlike 
tribes  was  identical  with  that  described  as  the  torture 
of  the  "  H6ch-e-a-yum."  At  the  present  time  I  know 
of  no  tribe  that  demands  the  ordeal,  as  the  process  of 
initiation  as  a  warrior. 

The  simple  announcement  by  the  council  is  all  now 

^essary  to  the  military  standing  of  the  candidate, 
and  the  religious  rites  are  consummated  by  his  going 
off  alone  to  some  high  hill,  or  other  secluded  place, 
and  there  starving  himself  into  a  condition  of  trance, 
during  which  he  decides  upon  his  medicine.  ^\Tien 
he  returns  to  his  camp,  it  is  to  step  into  his  position 
as  warrior.  He  becomes  at  once  a  "  dog-soldier,"  is 
no  longer  under  the  control  of  his  father  (unless  he 
still  chooses  to  live  in  the  paternal  lodge),  and  what- 
ever his  age,  may  marry  and  hold  property. 

The  girls  are  very  precocious  and  begin  to  "  go  into 
society,"  to  attend  dances  and  social  gatherings,  when 
but  eight  or  ten  years  of  age. 

At  the  very  last  Indian  dance  I  witnessed,  the 


•■■  -i: 


EARLY   MARRIAGE. 


193 


belles  of  the  evening,  and  the  most  forward  in  "  keep- 
ing up  the  hilarity,"  were  two  little  girls  of  about  ten 
years  old. 

At  this  age  they  are  frequently  pretty,  and  show  by 
their  actions  not  only  that  they  arc  as  well  aware  of 
that  fact,  as  are  their  white  sisters  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances, but  that  they  already  begin  to  feel  matri- 
monial hankerings,  and  are  determined  to  make  the 
most  of  their  chances  in  their  season  of  freshest 
bloom. 

Tiieir  hard  life  and  constant  work  tell  upon  them 
very  soon,  and  by  the  tim^  they  are  sixteen,  very  little 
of  their  early  freshness  is  left.  Indeed,  it  is  almost 
impossible,  after  that  age,  to  make  from  appearances 
even  an  approximate  guess  at  the  age  of  any  Indian 
woman.  I  know  a  married  woman  of  eighteen  who 
looks  as  old  as  her  mother,  who  must  be  thirty-five, 
and  this  is  not  at  all  unusual. 

Id 


.>:i^* 


•Y..;jr'v*i  ;■:,.•;■■' 


CHAPTER  XV. 

LOVE-M  VEJNG  IN  AN  INDIAN  CAMP  — 

MAKRIAGE. 


COURTSHIP  AND 


Indian  Lovers  —  Suitors  for  a  Maiden's  Hand  —  Going  to  "See  His 
Girl "  —  At  His  Inamorata's  Lodge  —  "  The  Old  Folks  at  Home  "  — 
Indian  Match-Makers  —  The  First  Real  Meeting  —  Picturebvjue  Re- 
luctance and  a  Pretty  Surrender  —  Tcte-h-Tete  —  Engaged  at  Last  — 
Appearance  of  Rivals  —  An  Indian  Flirt — A  Dozen  Lovers  at  Her 
Feet  —  Competition  the  Life  of  Trade  —  Plans  for  the  Wedding  — 
How  Paternal  Consent  is  Obtained —  Indian  Elopements  —  Love  De- 
fiant of  Locks  and  Bars  -.-  Escape  from  the  Lodge  —  Flight  and 
Pursuit — Assessing  the  Damages  —  The  Girl's  Market  Value  —  A 
White  Admirer's  Perfidy  —  Gushing  Frankness  —  An  Unfortunate 
Dilemma  —  "  So  Glad  You  Asked  Me  "  —  A  Widow's  Pathetic  Appeal. 

'  HERE  is  a  vast  amount  of  love-making 
in  an  Indian  camp,  for  aside  from  that 
common  and  natural  to  unmarried 
youth  of  both  sexes,  the  custom  of 
most  Plains  tribes  makes  every  man  a 
possible  suitor  for  the  hand  of  every 
woman,  though  either  or  both  may  be 
already  married. 
"No  sooner  has  the  boy  been  proclaimed 
a  warrior  than  he  begins  to  look  for  a  wife.  Although 
the  i*ily  real  essential  in  the  affair  is  that  he  have 
"  ponies,"  or  other  property,  to  pay  foi  her,  yet,  for 
reasons  which  will  hereafter  appear,  it  is  always  bet- 
ter to  win,  if  possible,  the  love  of  the  girl. 

So  far  as  my  observation  and  experience  go,  Indians 
of  neither  sex  are  afflicted  with  bashfulness,  but  while 

194 


•  ■«  n 


L 


■*■^■  y.vT-^'i' 


COURTSHIP. 


195 


■'J'* 


L 


the  male  Indian  prides  himself  on  the  violence  of  his 
passions,  custom  has  denounced  sentiment  as  un- 
manly, and  love  a  weakness. 

The  first  approaches  of  the  lover  are  therefore  shy 
and  constrained.  Wrapped  in  his  buffalo  robe,  or  in 
summer  in  his  wide  cotton  mantle,  with  his  face 
painted  in  the  highest  style  of  Indian  art,  his  locks 
combed,  greased  and  adorned  with  silver  or  plaited 
buckles,  he  frequents  the  lodge  of  his  Vxiamorata, 
standing  for  hours  without  a  word,  showing  only  by 
looks  the  feelings  that  agitate  his  bosom. 

After  such  number  of  visits  as  make  his  inten- 
tions entirely  plain,  the  old  folks  send  for  their  rela- 
tives and  intimates,  and  hold  a  family  council,  at 
which  the  eligibility  of  the  "^^ parti"  is  discussed;  his 
standing  in  the  tribe,  his  wealth,  present  and  prospect- 
ive, and  the  number  of  ponies  and  other  things  he  is 
likely  to  give  for  the  girl.  After  all  these  matters 
have  been  satisfactorily  settled,  the  girl  gives  her 
lover  such  looks  of  encouragement  as  induce  him  to 
hope. 

Up  to  this  time  the  two  persons  most  interested 
may  have  never  exchanged  a  word  in  private.  Now, 
however,  as  soon  as  it  is  dark  he  lies  in  wait  near  the 
door  of  her  lodge,  watching  for  the  appearance  of  his 
beloved,  but  carefully  concealing  himself  from  the 
observation  of  any  other  person.  Every  member  of 
the  lodge,  indeed,  possibly,  every  individual  of  the 
band,  knows  he  is  there,  but  it  is  one  of  the  strongest 
social  fictions  of  Indian  life  that  the  lover  is  sujDposed 
to  be  entirely  unseen  by  any  but  his  mistress. 

After  keeping  the  impatient  lover  waiting  as  long 
as  her  feminine  nature  thinks  proper,  the  girl  having 
properly  "  roped  "  herself,  slips  out  of  the  lodge,  and 


■r.^:   .:7i 


'\-. 


H»»f"iJ   i«/- 


*  T 


196 


AN   INDIAN   COQUETTE. 


is  immediately  pounced  Mpon  by  her  lover.  If  she 
resists  or  cries  out,  he  is  obliged  immediately  to  quit 
her.  If  she  yields  without  noise,  he  carries  her  to  a 
little  distance,  just  out  of  hearing  of  the  lodge. 
During  the  earlier  interviews  they  stand  facing  each 
other,  each  wrapped  in  his  or  her  own  garment.  If 
the  affair  progresses  favorably,  they  still  remain 
standing,  but  find  one  blanket  or  robe  sufficient  for 
both.  When  they  may  be  considered  as  engaged, 
they  seat  themselves  on  the  ground,  and  throwing  a 
blanket  over  the  heads  or  around  the  forms  o?  both, 
make  love  to  their  hearts'  content.  Couples  so  en- 
gaged are  never  disturbed.  Though  dozens  may  be 
watching  with  true  Indian  curiosity,  etiquette  requires 
that  they  not  only  keep  aloof,  but  act  as  if  they  had 
seen  nothing. 

It  not  unfrequcntly  happens  that  two  or  more 
lovers  are  paying  their  addresses  to  the  same  girl  at 
the  same  time.  All  are  lying  flat  on  the  ground,  each 
possibly  in  plain  view  of  the  others,  but  each  pre- 
sumed, by  the  fiction  of  custom,  to  be  entirely  con- 
cealed from  all  the  world. 

The  girl  ajDpears.  A  rush  is  made.  A  lover  seizes 
her;  if  the  one  she  wishes  to  flirt  with  on  that  occa- 
sion, she  yields  passively,  and  is  borne  off,  the  others 
disappearing  at  once.  If  a  wrong  one,  a  slight  resist- 
ance or  exclamation,  and  she  is  at  once  released,  to 
be  seized  again  by  another,  and  to  repeat  the  process 
until  satisfied  with  her  captor. 

Where  there  are  several  lovers  the  opportunity  and 
incentives  to  coquetry  are  immense. 

I  once  met  a  beautiful  half-breed  Sioux  girl,  who 
was  said  to  have  kept  at  least  a  dozen  lovers  lying 
about  her  lodge  door  for  a  year  or  more,  flirting  with 


U 


^m 


ACCEPTED    OR   REJECTED. 


197 


1 


each  in  turn,  and  managing  so  adroitly  that  each  felt 
he  would  be  the  happy  man  in  the  end. 

In  each  tribe  there  are  more  or  less  desperate  flirts, 
and  their  conduct  is  not  specially  objected  to  by  the 
ftithers,  who,  realizing  that  "  competition  is  the  life  of 
trade,"  mentally  raise  tlioir  price  on  the  accession  of 
each  new  lover. 

When  the  parties  come  to  an  imderstanding  the 
lover  lays  the  case  before  his  mother,  or  if  she  be 
dead,  some  old  female  relative  or  friend  is  selected. 

Dressed  in  her  best  she  proceeds  to  the  lodge  of  the 
mistress,  and  interviews  the  old  people. 

The  question  of  price  is  discussed  in  all  its  bear- 
ings, and  the  old  lady  finally  returns  with  the  ulti- 
matum of  the  other  side.  This  forms  a  subject  of  dis- 
cussion among  the  relatives  and  friends  of  the  family. 

Sometimes  more  is  asked  than  the  lover  can  give, 
or  his  father  is  willing  to  give  for  him.  In  that  case 
the  suit  may  either  be  abandoned  at  once,  or  an  effort 
made  to  effect  a  compromise. 

In  the  afternoon  all  the  ponies,  buffalo  robes,  sad- 
dles, etc.,  etc.,  the  lover  can  afford,  are  taken  over  to 
the  lodge  of  his  mistress,  the  ponies  tied  near  the 
door,  the  other  things  distributed  around.  When 
morning  comes,  if  the  ponies  and  other  things  are 
where  they  were  left,  the  suit  has  been  rejected.  If  the 
ponies  have  been  sent  to  the  herd  and  the  other  things 
taken  into  the  lodge,  the  lover's  offer  is  accepted. 

In  former  times  among  all,  but  at  present  only 
among  the  poorer  Indians,  the  young  husband  con- 
ducts his  new  purchase  to  the  lodge  of  his  father, 
there  to  remain  until  the  increase  in  his  family,  or 
his  wealth  and  consequence  in  the  tribe,  force  or 
enable  him  to  set  up  a  lodge  for  himself. 


.1; 


198 


AN   ELOPEMENT. 


In  later  years,  and  among  the  better  elass  of 
Indians,  the  mother  and  female  friends  of  the  bride 
set  up  a  teepe  a  little  way  from  the  parental  lodge 
and  furnish  it  for  the  use  of  the  new-married  couple, 
who  immediately  take  possession. 

There  is  no  marriage  ceremony  or  formality  of 
any  kind.  The  price  being  paid  and  accepted,  the 
man  becomes  the  absolute  owner  of  the  woman.  lie 
may  make  her  his  wife,  or  his  slave;  he  may  sell  her  or 
kill  her,  with  no  one  to  gainsay  or  "  make  him  afraid." 

The  daughter  being  led  by  her  heart  or  her  ftincy, 
and  the  father  by  careful  consideration  of  what  he 
can  get  for  her  from  some  other  man,  it  not  unfre- 
quently  happens  that  they  differ  as  to  which  lover 
should  be  accepted. 

All  fiction  teaches  that  among  whites  the  poor 
lover  is  almost  invariably  more  handsome  and  fasci- 
nating than  the  rich  one,  and  the  rule  holds  good 
among  red  men.  But  the  white  sister  ca'i  get  uj)  on 
her  dignity  and  say  "I  won't,"  words  which  would 
bring  to  the  red  sister  a  sound  thrashing,  if  not 
worse. 

There  is  but  one  possible  method  of  escape  from 
the  will  of  the  terrible  red  father,  and  that  is  by  an 
elopement. 

Custom  makes  it  not  only  improper,  but  very  dan- 
gerous, for  an  Indian  woman  to  be  found  alone  away 
from  her  lodge;  and  as  the  family  live  all  together 
in  one  room,  the  elopement  of  an  Indian  girl  is  a 
most  difficult  undertaking,  especially  when,  having 
cause  to  suspect  such  intention,  the  ftither  and  all 
his  family  are  on  constant  watch.  She  never  goes 
out  at  night  to  meet  her  lovers  but  many  eyes  are 
ui)on  her,  and  escape  then  Avould  be  impossible. 


:■ 

I 


J^ 


- 


'<.■■;,.,'■;  ''I^^ImL!/' 


AN   ELOPEMENT. 


199 


^^ 


As  among  whites,  "love  laughs  at  locksmiths,"  so 
among  reds,  love  laughs  at  watchful  eyes;  and  creep- 
ing out  of  the  lodge  when  the  family  arc  buried  in 
sleep,  the  girl  joins  her  lover,  and,  mounted  on  one 
ht  se  (if  they  are  unable  to  steal  another),  they,  by 
m^^'Miing,  have  put  many  miles  between  themselves 
and  the  wrathful  pursuers.  Should  they  be  over- 
taken the  lover  would  probably  pay  the  penalty  of 
his  love-venture  with  his  life,  while  the  girl  would 
come  in  for  a  terrible  beating;  but  it  is  Indian 
against  Indian  now,  and  the  fugitives  move  so  rap- 
idly and  constantly  that  the  pursuing  party,  having 
to  follow  the  trail,  concealed  by  every  device,  gen- 
erally after  one  or  two  days  abandon  the  pursuit 
and  return  to  camp  to  demand  damages  of  the 
father  of  the  successful  lover. 

These  are  awarded  by  the  chief  and  old  men,  not 
in  accordance  with  the  demand  of  the  father  of  the 
girl,  ])ut  with  reference  to  her  actual  market  value 
and  the  wealth  of  the  father  of  the  lover. 

After  a  few  weeks  the  fugitive  lovers,  knowing 
that  all  has  by  that  time  been  settled,  return  to  the 
camp  and  set  up  housekeci)ing  as  if  nothing  had 
happened. 

Being  by  their  confinement  on  reservations  de- 
barred fi-om  the  exercise  of  their  favorite  accom- 
plishment, horse-stealing,  the  tribes  are  now  com- 
paratively poor,  and  it  is  by  no  means  easy  for  the 
ardent  swain  to  procure  enough  ponies  to  satisfy 
the  avarice  of  the  obdurate  father,  consequently 
elopements  are  becoming  more  and  more  frequent, 
and  property  in  marriageable  daughters  exceedingly 
precarious. 

In  Kovember,  1880,  a  citizen  employed  at  the  mil- 


'' 


mmm 


200 


A   GUSHING  MAIDEN. 


'U. 


■Jr.,- 


V- 


/Ss 


itary  post  of  Fort  Reno,  being  on  a  journey  on  horse- 
back, overtook  a  ftnnily  of  Cheyenne  Indians  moving 
their  camp.  The  bucks  were  in  front,  some  distance 
ahead  of  the  squaws,  who  had  charge  of  the  pack 
animals  and  loose  stock.  Among  the  women  was 
one  of  about  twenty  years  of  age,  a  very  handsome 
girl,  for  an  Indian.  Riding  alongside  of  her,  the 
American,  Avho  was  a  perfect  master  of  the  Chey- 
enne language,  opened  a  conversation.  To  pass 
away  the  time  and  have  some  "  fun  "  he  soon  com- 
menced to  make  furious  love  to  her,  a  proceeding 
so  common  as  almost  to  be  etiquette  among  Indians. 

This  was  received  so  pleasantly  that  after  a  while 
he  proposed  an  elopement.  Greatly  to  his  conster- 
nation the  proposition  was  not  only  accepted,  but  the 
lady  at  once  elaboi'ated  a  plan  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  their  purpose,  fixing  time,  place  and  all 
details  with  the  utmost  minuteness. 

"  Now  don't  make  any  mistake,"  said  she,  "  for  my 
father  watches  me  very  closely,  and  you  will  have 
to  be  careful. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  asked  me,"  continued  she  gush- 
ingly. "  My  father  asks  five  ponies  for  me,  though  he 
knows  I  am  not  worth  them.  Xobody  will  pay  that 
price,  and  here  I  am  almost  an  old  woman,  Avithout  a 
husband,  while  all  the  girls  of  my  age  have  husbands 
and  babies.  When  we  come  back  from  our  'run- 
away '  the  chief  will  not  make  you  pay  more  than  one 
pony  for  me." 

The  luckless  love-maker,  utterly  overwhelmed  by 
his  own  success,  soon  made  excuse  to  leave,  and  to 
the  discredit  of  my  sex,  I  am  obliged  to  admit,  wil- 
fully failed  to  make  his  appearance  at  the  rendezvous. 

Polygamy  seems  to  be  the  natural  condition  of 


r 


Jim 


im 


JM. 


.i^ '■^J&imMi'i:'.'! 


iidMk 


iiMi 


W^pi^l^iw^^" 


">">■- 


^iS;^^  ./•e.i.'yv    '■.•^.>^;'^.ir  '\f^f^y>-T,-^'r^^T, ,  ^;; 


CURIOUS   CUSTOM. 


201 


f' 


«# 


mankind,  at  least,  it  is  a  custom  among  almost  all 
primitive  or  natural  people.  Each  red  man  has  as 
many  wives  as  his  inclination  prompts,  or  his  wealth 
allows. 

Of  the  lovers  which  any  Indian  maiden  may  have, 
it  is  safe  to  say  that  at  least  half  have  already  one, 
two,  or  more  wives. 

These  are  generally  the  men  of  means,  consequently 
the  favorites  of  her  father. 

These  may  be,  and  ofttimes  arc,  successful  in  their 
suit  with  her,  but  they  are  not  the  men  to  elope. 
They  leave  too  much  at  stake  behind  them. 

Jealousy  would  seem  to  have  no  place  in  the  com- 
position of  an  Indian  woman,  and  many  prefer  to  be, 
even  for  a  time,  the  favorite  of  a  man  who  already 
has  a  wife  or  wives,  and  who  is  known  to  be  a  good 
husband  and  provider,  rather  than  tempt  the  precari- 
ous chances  of  an  untried  man. 

Until,  therefore,  he  is  so  old  as  to  care  no  longer 
for  the  gentle  sex,  every  man  of  the  tribe,  whether 
married  or  single,  is  a  possible  suitor  for  the  hand  of 
any  unmai-ried  girl  in  it.  I  have  known  several 
Indians  of  middle  age  with  already  numerous  wives 
and  children,  who  were  such  favorites  with  the  sex 
that  they  might  have  inci'cased  their  number  of  wives 
to  an  unlimited  extent,  had  they  been  so  disposed, 
and  this  too,  from  among  the  very  nicest  girls  of  the 
tribe. 

Among  the  Cheyennes,  Arrapahoes,  and  other 
southern  tribes,  there  is  a  very  curious  custom.  I 
have  heard  that  it  extends  to  the  Sioux  and  other 
northern  Indians,  but  have  no  positive  warrant  of 
the  fact. 

The  man  who  marries  the  oldest  daughter  of  a 


'..'*j'^.-' ■  ■-■>w■^^'^«*^^ », 


202 


PATHETIC   APPEAL. 


family,  by  fair  and  open  purchase  from  her  father,  has 
a  lien  upon,  and  is  entitled  to  the  refusal  of  all  the 
other  daughters,  full  sisters  to  his  wife. 

As  they  arrive  at  marriageable  age,  he  has  a  right 
to  take  them  as  wives  if  he  sees  fit,  without  paying 
anything  for  them.  If  he  declines  them  their  osvner- 
ship  reverts  to  the  father  again,  who  can  sell  them  to 
whom  he  pleases. 

If  a  man  married  to  the  oldest  daughter  signifies 
his  intention  of  taking  her  sister  to  wife  when  she  is 
old  enough,  and  she  should  in  the  mean-time  elope 
with  another  man,  the  damages  would  be  paid  to  the 
brother-in-law,  and  not  to  the  father. 

An  Arrapahoe  chief,  Yellow  Bear,  is  married  to 
three  sisters.  Having  married  the  oldest,  the  others 
fell  to  him  naturally  by  custom,  as  they  became  of 
marriageable  age,  and  without  further  payment. 

In  March,  1880,  a  Cheyenne  woman  appealed  to 
me  against  this  custom.  She  was  a  widow  with  four 
daughters.  Eight  years  belbre  a  Cheyenne  Indian 
had  married  her  oldest  daughter.  A  few  years  after 
he  took  the  second,  the  thii'd  was  taken  when  mar- 
riageable, and  now  he  demanded  the  foui'th,  a  girl  of 
foinleen  years. 

The  widow's  appeal  was  pathetic. 

"  I  have  no  son.  This  man  has  had  three  of  my 
daughters  to  wife.  He  has  no  children  by  any  of 
them.  !Now  he  wants  my  last  daughter.  He  will 
have  no  children  by  her,  and  I  will  go  to  my  grave 
knowing  that  I  leave  no  posterity  behind  me." 

I  could  do  nothing,  of  course,  army  officers  not  be- 
ing pcimitted  to  have  any  say  in  Indian  affairs,  but  I 
suggested  flight.  This  was  shown  to  be  impracti- 
cable, and  I  gave  up  the  case  when  I  found  that  the 


' 


*f 


^^^^^"^ 


ass 


R  ■;'"«'* 


PROTECTION  OF  THE  ROPE. 


203 


man  intended  to  take  the  girl  by  force,  and  that  the 
girl  herself,  having  no  other  lover,  was  ready  and 
willing  to  be  taken. 

The  concentration  of  large  numbers  of  Indians  of 
different  bands  and  tribes  on  comparatively  restricted 
areas  (reservations),  while  greatly  increasing  the 
opportunities  for  love-making,  has  made  no  material 
change  in  any  of  these  customs.  But  the  diminution 
of  the  power  of  the  chiefs,  and  the  failure  of  the 
United  States  Government  to  furnish  any  adequate 
substitute,  work  greatly  to  the  injury  and  demoraliza- 
tion of  the  wom?n.  Under  the  tribal  government  a 
man  who  outraged  a  girl  was  obliged  to  pay  for  and 
take  her  to  wife,  under  penalty  of  death.  N^ow  there 
is  no  punishment.  The  only  protection  that  aiiy 
woman  )ias,  is  that  derived  from  the  custom  of  "  rop- 
ing "  herself,  and  the  fear  lest  the  father  or  husband 
might  execute  his  right  of  revenge  on  the  perpetrator 
of  an  outrage  on  the  woman  so  "  roped." 


^^. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


,-.,&■  • 


INDIAN     WOMEN  —  THEIR     VIKTUES     AND     VICES  — 
LIFE    IN   AN    INDIAN   LODGE. 

The  Lifo  of  an  Indian  Woman  —  Whoro  the  Boail  and  Feather  Work 
Comes  From  —  A  "Model"  Wife — A  Squaw's  Riglit  —  Seeking  a 
New  Husband  —  How  the  Custom  Originated  —  The  Go-Bet\veen  — 
Secret  Conferences  —  Winning  the  Afl'eetions  of  Another  Man's  AVife 
—  Scandal  in  the  Camp  —  The  Old  Warrior's  Darling  —  Fliglit  with  a 
Youthful  Admirer  —  The  Honey-^Moon  —  Housekeeping  in  a  Friendly 
Teepo  —  A  Dark  Day  —  A  Terrible  Tunishment  —  Tickling  a  Girl's 
Vanity  —  Liaisons  Among  the  Arrapahoes  —  Curious  Safeguards  — 
The  Story  of  Powder  Face  —  A  Notable  Couple  —  A  Precocious  Young 
Rascal  —  First-Class  Sensation —  Madmen  and  Idiots  —  A  Professlpnal 
Tramp  —  His  Capture  by  Hostile  Sioux. 

'*  -—  -*  jj;e  ijf(^  Qf  r^Yi  Indian  woman  is  a  round 
of  wearisome  labor.  Ilcr  marriage  ib 
only  an  exchange  of  masters,  and  an 
3  (i^jU^^pexk  exchange  for  the  worse,  for  the  duties 
?  Mm^^t^^c  devolved  upon  a  girl  in  the  parental 
lodge  arc  generally  of  the  lightest 
kind.  She  may  be  required  to  assist 
in  the  cooking,  in  making  or  repairing 
the  lodge,  to  make  and  mend  clothing,  and 
most  of  the  elaborate  ornamental  bead  and  feather 
work  comes  from  her  hand.  All  her  labors,  however, 
are  in  or  near  the  family  lodge,  and  where  she  is 
immediately  under  the  eyes  of  her  parents.  For  an 
unmarried  girl  to  be  found  away  from  her  lodge  alone, 
is  to  invite  outrage,  consequently  she  is  never  sent  out 
to  cut  and  bring  wood,  nor  to  take  care  of  the  stock. 

204 


^ 


.r&K: 


^i 


A   GOOD   WIFE. 


205 


K 

a 

te 
a 

y 

'8 


ll 


<&    r 


—■111 


She  may  sometimes  be  required  to  go  with  her  mother 
on  these  errands  and  duties,  or  to  work  with  her  in 
the  fields,  but  as  a  rule  all  the  hard  out-door  work 
devolves  on  the  married  women. 

The  pride  of  the  good  wife  is  in  permitting  her  hus- 
band to  do  nothing  for  himself  She  cooks  his  food, 
makes  and  mends  his  lodge  and  his  clothing,  dresses 
skins,  butchers  the  game,  dries  tho  meat,  goes  after 
and  saddles  his  horse. 

When  making  a  journey  she  strikes  the  lodge, 
packs  the  animals,  cares  for  all  the  babies,  and  super- 
intends the  march,  her  lord  and  master,  who  left  camp 
long  before  her,  being  far  oif  in  front  or  flank  looking 
after  game. 

On  arriving  at  the  camping-place,  she  unpacks  the 
animals,  pitches  the  lodge,  makes  the  beds,  brings 
wood  and  water,  and  does  everything  that  is  to  be 
done,  and  when  her  husband  returns  from  his  hunt,  is 
ready  to  take  and  unsaddle  his  horse. 

What  she  gets  in  exchange  for  all  this  devotion  it 
is  impossible  to  say,  but  whether  from  ignorance  of 
any  better  fate,  or  fi'om  constant  oc^'upation,  it  is 
absolutely  certain  that  a  happier,  more  light-hearted, 
more  contented  woman  cannot  be  found. 

The  husband  owns  his  wife  entirely.  He  may 
abuse  her,  beat  her,  even  kill  her  without  question. 
She  is  more  absolutely  a  slave  than  any  negro  before 
the  war  of  the  rebellion,  for  not  only  may  herself,  but 
lier  person  be  sold  or  given  away  by  her  husband 
at  his  pleasure  and  without  her  consent. 

In  spite  of  all  this  the  women  are  not  without  their 
weight  and  influence,  not  only  in  their  own  house- 
hold, but  in  all  the  affairs  of  the  tribe,  and  though  not 
permitted  even  to  enter  the  council  lodge,  they  are 


.*■ 


■"      ■   A?-- 


20G  CURIOUS   RIGHT   OF  MARRIED    WOMEN. 

very  frequently  "  the  power  behind  the  throne,"  direet- 
ing  and  guiding  ahnost  without  knowing  it  them- 
selves. 

The  custom  in  the  Plains  tribes  which  makes  every 
man  in  the  tribe  a  possible  suitor  for  t)ie  hand  of 
every  woman,  though  either  or  both  may  be  already 
married,  is  so  at  variance  with  all  established  ideas  of 
what  savages  regard  as  "  the  rights  of  woman ;  "  is  so 
entirely  unparalleled  among  other  savage  races  of 
mankind,  that  I  have  devoted  unusual  time  and  care  to 
its  study,  more  especially  from  the  fact  that  the  custom 
is  not  mentioned,  so  far  as  I  know,  by  any  writer  on 
the  N^orth  American  Indians. 

This  custom  gives  to  every  married  womr.n  of  the 
tribes  the  absolute  right  to  leave  her  husband  and 
become  the  wife  of  any  other  man,  the  sole  condition 
being  that  the  new  husband  must  have  the  means  to 
pay  for  her. 

How  the  savage  Indian  with  his  utter  lack  of  any 
sense  of  justice  to  woman,  his  m:?re  slave,  could 
have  permitted  such  an  act  to  grow  into  a  custom,  is 
one  of  the  curiosities  of  mental  progression. 

"We  may  naturally  suppose  that  it  arose  at  first 
from  the  tendency  of  the  chiefs  to  take  to  their 
bosoms  the  handsome  wives  of  the  commoners  of  the 
tribes.  They  probably  paid  for  them  liberally,  and 
the  bereaved  husband  was  obliged  to  be  satisfied. 
The  new  wives  did  not  lose,  but  gained  standing  and 
position. 

The  example  of  chiefs  was  followed,  and  thus,  what 
at  first  were  mere  acts  of  rapine,  became  firmly 
engrafted  on  the  tribes  by  custom. 

However  it  may  have  originated,  it  is  certain  that 
this  custom  exerts  a  most  beneficial  influence  in  ameli- 


«,i 


■_i»i-;ifi^(r^v5&AS  kitj.'ix:ii!«ifcii:,i.s  iv« 


CHANGE   OF   HUSBAND. 


207 


1- 


orating  the  condition  of  the  women.  Abject  slave  as 
the  wile  is,  she  has,  if  moderately  good-looking  or 
having  a  fair  reputation  as  a  w^M'ker,  a  sure  remedy 
against  ail  conjugal  ills,  in  being  able  to  leave  her 
husband  for  any  other  man  who  will  take  her  and  pay 
for  her. 

The  transfer  of  devotion  and  allegiance  of  women 
to  other  men  than  their  rightful  owners,  is  not  an 
unusual  occurrence  among  the  Plains  Indians.  It 
may  come  from  ill  treatment  on  the  part  of  the  hus- 
band, or  from  what  our  civilization  would  term  "  an 
affinity,"  an  ordinary  love  affair. 

A  woman  is  ill  treated  by,  or  lives  unhappily  with 
her  husband.  She  secures  the  services  of  some 
friendly  and  cautious  old  woman  of  the  tribe,  secrecy 
being  most  essential,  the  husband  having  a  perfect 
right  to  kill  the  wife  should  he  suspect  what  is  going 
on.  The  old  woman  sounds  the  warriors,  and  finding 
one  willing  to  take  and  pay  for  the  woman,  the  affair 
is  accomplished. 

Or  a  man  has  taken  a  fancy  to  another  man's  wife. 
He  makes  his  advances,  is  met  by  encouragement, 
and,  after  a  siege  more  or  less  protracted,  wins  her. 

In  either  case,  the  husband  wakes  up  some  morn- 
ing to  find  his  wife  gone.  He  searches  for  her 
through  the  encampment  and  finds  her  in  another 
man's  lodge,  doing  the  ordinary  work  as  if  she 
belonged  there,  and  he  is  informed  that  she  has 
become  the  wife  of  that  man. 

Etiquette  and  custom  prevent  his  saying  a  word  to 
the  new  husband,  or  to  upbraid  or  injure  the  woman. 
He  has  but  one  recourse.  He  immediately  proceeds 
to  the  chif^f  and  states  his  grievance.  One  or  two 
prominent  old  warriors   are   summoned.     They  and 


.•■'    .   ':;-■  ..'V-i-'y/^ 


'^^-r.:-;^:^'^'.. 


PP^"ipPPF 


■:^»^:»  riTV'?'"  ;*,->$»'■,' 


208 


THE   chief's  wife. 


hW: 


jtr 


the  chief  examine  into  the  case  and  assess  the  dam- 
ages, somewhat  in  accordance  with  the  actual  market 
value  of  the  woman,  but  more  usually  by  simply  con- 
sidering the  relative  wealth  of  the  two  men.  If  a 
rich  man  takes  a  jjoor  man's  wife  he  would  probably 
be  hea  ily  assessed;  while  the  poor  man  who  took 
the  rich  man's  wife  would  get  off  with  a  compar- 
atively small  bill  of  costs. 

There  is  no  appeal  fro  in  the  decision,  and  whatever 
forfeit  is  declared  must  be  paid  at  once.  This  done, 
the  affair  is  over.  There  is  no  wrangling  or  fighting, 
and  in  every  case,  forfeit  or  none,  the  Avoman  has  the 
right  to  remain  with  the  man  of  her  choice. 

Should  the  wife  of  a  chief  change  her  allegiance, 
nothing,  as  a  rule,  is  said  or  done  about  it.  The 
chief  is  too  great  a  man,  too  high  and  mighty,  too 
far  removed  from  the  common  feelings  of  humanity, 
to  waste  a  moment's  time  or  thought  on  so  insignifi- 
cant a  thing  as  a  woman. 

His  runaway  wife  may  be  in  the  same  camp,  in  the 
very  next  lodge;  he  may  pass  her  eveiy  day,  or  even 
chat  with  her  when  she  comes  to  his  lodge  to  see  her 
children,  but  no  look  or  word  from  him  will  ever  show 
that  he  is  aware  that  she  has  changed  her  allegiance. 

With  a  custom  giving  her  the  absolute  right  to 
change  her  husband  at  will,  and  Avith  the  temptation 
arising  from  the  constant  approaches  of  all  other 
Indian  men,  —  who,  animal  like,  approach  a  female 
only  to  make  love  to  her,  —  it  is  very  remarkable 
that  so  many  are  chaste,  and  that  these  exchanges 
of  husbands  are  the  exception  and  not  the  rule. 
The  concession  of  the  right  to  change  takes  from 
most  of  them  the  temptation  to  avail  themselves 
of  it. 


vi 


.»!■* 


''"'""'■•  I'j^  !'?*'"■'"*•' 


'JWf;.  ,t;;j=%i-fl'  : 


-*.   ■«''W'V"^~..'^''*"^vj3r''if^^'j^|^'xy.^'rw!'f"v 


A   GRIM   PRESENT. 


209 


lam- 
irket 
icon- 

If  a 
labjj 

look 

Par- 

ver 
me. 


The  new  husband  must  be  prepared  to  pay  at  once 
for  the  runaway  woman  whatever  price  is  assessed 
by  the  chief  and  old  men.  This  rule  is  imperative, 
and  a  failure  to  comply  with  tias  sole  condition  may 
lead  to  most  disastrous  consequences,  the  abandoned 
husband  having  the  right  to  inflict  deatli  on  the 
absconding  wife. 

A  young  girl  had  become  tlie  third  or  fourth  wife 
of  a  man  at  least  ^.fty  years  old.  As  was  perhaps 
natural,  she  became  enamoured  of  a  young  warrior 
who,  not  having  the  means  to  pay  for  her,  persuaded 
her  to  run  awav  with  him. 

The  elopement  was  successfuily  accomplished  and 
the  young  couple  arrived  at  the  encampment  of 
another  band  of  the  same  tribe,  where  they  set  up 
housekeeping  as  man  and  wife. 

Some  five  or  six  months  after  the  whole  tribe  was 
called  together  for  the  "  Medicine  Dance."  The  old 
man  found  his  runaway  wife  and  demanded  either 
that  he  be  paid  for  her  or  that  she  be  turned  over 
to  him  for  punishment.  The  young  man  could  pay 
nothing  and  the  girl  was,  by  order  of  the  chief, 
delivered  to  her  first  husband.  Seating  her  on  the 
ground  he  crossed  her  feet  so  that  the  instep  of  one 
was  directly  over  that  of  the  other,  and  deliberately 
fired  a  rifle  ball  through  the  two.  He  then  formally 
presented  her  to  the  young  man,  grimly  remark- 
ing,— 

"  You  need  not  fear  that  she  will  run  away  with 
any  other  man." 

Custom  has  given  to  the  unmarried  girls  of  the 

tribes  a  somewhat   similar  right  of  self-protection 

against  arbitrary  sale  by  their  fathers.     The  girl  is 

sold.      If,  after  two   or  three   days,  the  husband's 

14 


..-■  ,»^ 


210  MAKmG  LOVE   TO   A  FRIEND'S   WIFE. 


make   her   his,   she 


^B^f 


entreaties   have   failed 

return  to  her  father's 

ever,  is  obliged  to  return  to  the  purchaser  the  price 

he  paid  for  her. 

I  have  known  but  few  such  cases,  the  i-eward 
given  the  girl  by  her  father  in  the  sliape  of  a  most 
outrageous  whipping  having  the  effect  to  discourage 
such  perverseness.  Besides  this,  she  knows  that 
after  marriage  she  can  leave  her  husband  almost  at 
will,  and  it  ministers  to  her  vanity  to  know  that  her 
father  got  an  exceptionally  good  price  for  her. 

I  have  been  at  pains  to  show  that  the  Indian  has 
not  only  no  moral  code,  but  that  he  has  not  the  faint- 
est conception  of  an  idea  of  moral  obligation.  This 
is  exemplified  not  only  in  their  general  customs,  but 
in  their  individual  every-day  life. 

For  the  man  there  is  no  such  word,  no  such  idea,  as 
continence.  He  has  as  little  control  over  his  passions 
as  any  wild  beast,  and  is  held  to  as  little  account- 
ability for  their  indiscriminate  gratification.  Of  all 
the  tribes  that  I  know  of,  Indian  men  are  the  same. 

No  tribe  visits  any  punishment  on  the  lover.  Every 
man's  right  is  to  im23ortune,  to  win,  if  possible;  and 
the  attempt  of  one  on  the  virtue  of  another's  wife  is 
not  at  all  incompatible  with  the  closest  and  most  inti- 
mate friendshii)  between  the  men.  And  what  is  more 
singular,  the  friend  may  make  the  most  violent  love 
CO  the  wife,  with  every  protestation  of  passion,  and 
every  promise  of  love,  devotion,  constancy,  and  kind 
treatment,  in  the  immediate  presence  and  hearing  of 
the  husband,  who,  whatever  he  may  feel,  is  debarred 
by  custom  fi'om  noticing  it  in  any  way. 

There  is  no  single  point  in  which  tribes  differ  so 
greatly  as  in  the  average  chastity  of  their  women. 


U 


.  .,  ..  .fc. v^.■■^■^._-.  .,>..,  ^.  ..^y  .  . ^.     ^  111-  ■n"  r  i 


^r'~iiy'.'-' '■■  iw";:*');/  •■';sr!f/',' 


'•■.'V^,tT'vP'"'"H* 


EESULTS   OF   POVERTY. 


211 


JUi 


The  Cheyenne  and  Arrapahoe  tribes  occupy  the 
same  territory,  live  together  in  the  same  camps,  and 
are  constantly  and  intimately  associated.  The  men 
of  the  two  tribes  are  identical  in  their  habits  of  per- 
sonal incontinence,  but  differ  entirely  in  their  ideas 
of  family  government,  and  in  the  management  of 
their  women. 

Among  the  Arrapahoes  infidelities  are  not  specially 
rciDrobated,  even  by  the  husband.  Among  the  Chey- 
ennes  a  discovery  of  such  conduct  would  entail  most 
serious  consequences,  possibly  death  to  the  woman. 

The  result  is  remarkable.  The  Cheyenne  women 
are  retiring  and  modest,  and  for  chastity  will  com- 
pare favorably  with  the  women  of  any  nation  or  peo- 
ple. The  Arrapahoe  women,  on  the  contrary,  are 
loose  almost  without  exception. 

Under  tribal  government  the  Plains  tribes  differed 
very  greatly  in  the  punishment  meted  out  to  unfaith- 
ful wives,  that  is  those  who  entered  into  a  "  liaison  " 
while  yet  living  wdth  the  husband,  or  those  who  by 
neglect  of  some  rule  become  culpable.  In  all  tribes 
'  iG  husband  absolutely  owns  the  wife,  and  may  put 
hor  to  death,  which,  as  before  stated,  was  sometimes, 
though  rarely,  done  by  the  Cheyennes.  The  Co- 
manches  split  their  noses,  while  the  Apaches  and 
Navahoes  frequently  cut  that  organ  off  entirely. 

Since  the  almost  utter  impoverishment  of  the  tribes 
by  the  benignant  action  of  the  government,  punish- 
ment of  the  woman  for  infidelity  is  extremely  i*are. 
The  bereaved  husband,  whatever  may  be  his  feelings, 
cannot  afford  the  loss  of  so  much  valuable  property. 
He,  therefore,  sends  the  wife  back  to  her  father,  and 
gathers  in  from  the  lover  whatever  spoil  he  can  lay 
his  hands  on,  the  interference  of  the  chief  to  assess 


212 


INDIAN  LIAISONS. 


damages 


not  in  this  case  being  necessary.  The 
woman,  though  living  in  her  father's  lodge,  is  now 
the  property  of  the  lover,  and  though  he  may  not 
take  her  to  wife,  she  is  obliged  by  custom  to  remain 
faithful  to  him.  He,  therefore,  keeps  a  close  watch 
on  her,  and  should  he  discover  her  in  a  liaison  with 
another  man,  he  proceeds  to  levy  damages  from  that 
man  equal  to  those  taken  from  himself  by  the  rightful 
husband.  The  ownership  of  the  woman  and  duty  of 
watching  her  now  devolve  on  the  latest  lover.  I 
have  known  several  instances  where  a  loose  but 
good-looking  woman  has  thus  passed  through  half  a 
dozen  different  ownerships,  though  all  the  time  living 
in  the  lodge  of  her  father. 

It  must  be  understood  that  the  women  here  spoken 
of  are  those  who  enter  into  liaisons  while  yet  Jiving 
with  and  presumably  faithful  to  their  husbands.  It 
is  rare  that  the  successful  lover  takes  such  an  one  to 
wife,  he  naturally  fearing  that  one  lapse  from  fidelity 
may  be  followed  by  another. 

The  exchange  of  husbands,  as  heretofore  described, 
is  in  no  sense  a  violation  of  the  rules  of  the  strictest 
chastity.  It  is  customary,  legitimate,  and  proper.  It 
is  the  woman's  protection  against  tyranny.  The 
Cheyenne  woman,  being  of  a  spirited,  high-strung 
race,  is  quick  to  resent  the  ill  treatment  or  neglect  of 
one  husbhnd  by  taking  another. 

The  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoes  have  a  curious 
custom  which  also  obtains,  though  to  a  limited  extent, 
among  other  of  the  Plains  tribes.  No  unmarried 
woman  considers  herself  dressed  to  meet  her  beau  at 
night,  to  go  to  a  dance,  or  other  gathering,  unless 
she  has  tied  her  lower  limbs  with  a  rope,  m  such  a 
way,  however,  as  not  to  interfere  with  her  powers  of 


i 


^^Avlp.'.-'-^S^  -. .  ■-■■■  -  --1  ^%.-  -: 


.4Ki*.iVp*^;«.,  i..>'i^L.-i^^L'A,"..-:  >■'.■!  <.■  a.v.J\-.i'  *i,Vj;..;i"' 


EOPrN^G. 


213 


1 


locomotion;  and  every  married  woman  does  the  same 
before  going  to  bed  when  her  husband  is  absent. 
Custom  has  made  this  an  ahnost  perfect  protection 
agamst  the  brutaUty  of  the  men.  Without  it,  she 
would  not  be  safe  an  instant,  and  even  with  it,  an 
unmarried  girl  is  not  safe  if  found  alone,  away  from 
the  immediate  protection  of  her  lodge. 

A  Cheyenne  woman,  either  married  or  single,  is 
never  seen  alone.  Though  any  man  has  the  right  to 
assault  her,  she  is  required  to  protect  herself,  and  this 
can  only  be  done  by  always  having  some  one  with 
her. 

The  sale  of  a  wife  is  not  unusual,  though  becoming 
less  so  every  year.  The  Indians  are  very  fond  of 
children,  and  anxious  to  have  as  many  as  possible. 
Should  the  wife  not  bear  a  child  in  a  reasonable  time, 
she  is  liable  to  be  sold,  and  very  likely  with  her  own 
full  consent. 

Should  a  husband  sell  a  wife,  by  whom  he  has 
children,  which  is  now  extremely  rare,  he  generally 
keeps  the  children,  though  I  have  heard  of  cases 
where  wife  and  children  were  sold  together.  The 
possibility  of  separation  from  her  children  helps  to 
keep  the  wife  in  proper  subjection,  though  neither 
her  sale,  nor  her  voluntary  abandonment  of  her  hus- 
band for  another,  as  already  described,  prevents  her 
visiting  or  receiving  visits  from  her  children  at 
pleasure. 

It  is  regarded  as  effeminate  in  a  man  to  show  any 
special  affection  for  his  wife  in  public.  A  very  nota- 
ble exception  to  their  habit  in  this  particular  is 
"  Powder  Face,"  a  prominent  chief  of  the  Arrapahoes, 
a  desperate  and  dangerous  man,  covered  with  scars, 
and  celebrated  for  the  number  of  scalps  he  has  taken, 


...k¥l 


214 


POAVDER  FACE. 


ti 


1. 


:|: 


and  the  risks  he  has  run.  His  wife  is  a  woman  of 
average  good  looks,  and  of  some  thirty  years  of  age. 
They  have  been  married  about  fifteen  years,  and  have 
no  children.  In  spite  of  this,  no  two  people  could  be 
more  devoted  and  apparently  happy.  Contrary  to 
custom  he  has  but  one  wife,  and  she  goes  with  him 
everywhere,  his  most  devoted  and  willing  slave.  lie 
will  sit  for  hours  before  his  lodge  door  combing  her 
hair,  painting  her  face,  petting  and  fondling  her ;  con- 
duct which  would  disgrace  a  less  determined  or  well- 
known  warrior. 

"Powder  Face"  has  some  other  peculiarities  some- 
what inconsistent  with  Indian  custom.  When  talking 
to  him  one  day  about  th'^  Indian  habit  of  making  love 
to  each  other's  wives,  I  asked,  "  What  would  you  do 
if  another  Indian  made  love  to  your  wife?"  He 
made  no  answer  in  words,  but  putting  his  hands  to 
his  brlt  he  seized  the  sheath  of  his  knife,  and  turned 
the  handle  towards  me,  putting  on  at  the  same  time  a 
scowl  of  malignant  determination  that  completed  the 
pantomime,  and  assured  me  that  it  would  be  very 
unhealthy  for  any  Indian  to  devote  himself  to  that 
woman. 

Indians  are  gregarious,  even  the  chief  preferring 
to  have  one  or  more  families,  besides  his  own,  in  his 
lodge.  These  are  generally  relatives,  or  poor  depend- 
ants. 

The  ordinary  estimate  of  the  inhabitants  of  an 
Indian  village  is  three  fighting  men,  or  from  twelve 
to  fifteen  individuals  to  the  lodge.  When  it  is  recol- 
lected that  even  the  very  largest  lodge  is  scarcely 
over  more  than  eighteen  feet  in  diameter,  and  con- 
tains but  one  room,  some  idea  may  be  formed,  not 
only  of  its  crowded  condition,  but  of  the  utter  lack  of 


^■: 


>'^'H?'--"- 


-^jf'-r'i!!f\;^^-;'~ii'f.i:.- 


•f^'-VT- 


■i?»'-"'  ,v.f 


•  ;>■',«,  Vixv'y>ft>i.' 


A   SHARP  YOUTH. 


215 


privacy  of  the  inmates,  and  consequently  their  entire 
lack  of  modesty  and  delicacy,  either  in  word  or  act. 

The  husband  of  one  wife  brings  home  another  and 
another.  Each  wife  has  a  bed,  in  which  she  sleeps 
with  her  smaller  children,  the  husband  generally 
keeping  the  latest  favorite  to  himself.  I  have  never 
heard  of  any  serious  difficulty  or  trouble  between  the 
wives  on  that  account,  and  the  sentiment  of  jealousy 
seems  to  be  nearly  wanting  in  the  woman.  The 
devotion  of  a  man  to  a  new  wife,  or  his  infidelity  to 
them  all  J  seems  not  to  awaken  the  slightest  feeling  or 
idea  of  resistance  to  so  universal  a  custom.  In  their 
sexual  and  marital  relations,  the  Indians  are  scarcely 
above  the  beasts  of  the  field.  They  marry  very  young; 
the  youth  as  soon  as  he  is  fortunate  enou^'.  to  steal 
horses  enough  to  pay  for  a  wife,  or  can  persuade  his 
father  to  buy  one  for  him. 

About  a  year  previous  to  this  writing,  the  seven- 
teen year  old  son  of  a  prominent  and  wealthy  chief 
having  been  initiated  as  warrior,  informed  his  father 
that  he  wished  to  marry. 

The  fond  and  proud  father  immediately  presented 
him  with  quite  a  number  of  ponies,  and  told  him  to 
look  around  and  choose  his  wife.  He  went  directly 
to  the  father  of  a  pretty  girl,  to  whom  he  had  already 
been  paying  his  addresses,  after  Indian  fashion. 

After  some  haggling,  the  price  of  the  girl  was 
agreed  upon,  the  youngster,  however,  making  the  un- 
usual condition  that  the  affair  must  be  kept  a  profound 
secret  until  a  certain  day,  when  he  would  bring  the 
ponies,  and  take  away  the  girl.  He  then  went  to  the 
father  of  another  girl  and  closed  a  bargain  with  him. 
A  third  bargain  was  also  consummated,  all  on  the 
same  terms. 


216 


MAKEIAGE   OP   YOUNG   GIKLS. 


.■■v 


The  parents  of  the  youth  were  informed  that  lie 
would  be  married  on  a  certain  day,  but  were  kept  in 
profound  ignorance  as  to  the  intended  wife.  How- 
ever, a  new  and  large  teepe  was  jjrovided  by  his 
loving  mother,  and  all  arrangements  made  for  a  grand 
marriage  feast. 

The  day  arrived.  The  precocious  young  rascal 
drove  up  his  herd  of  ponies,  and  jJi'oceeding  to  the 
teepe  of  one  of  the  fathers  with  whom  he  had  bar- 
gained, paid  over  a  number  of  them  and  carried  off 
the  girl.  Then  going  to  the  teepe  of  the  second  and 
the  third  he  paid  their  prices,  and  returned  to  his 
bridal  teepe,  minus  ponies,  but  bringing  with  him  the 
three  j^rettiest  girls  in  the  village. 

The  affair  caused  the  greatest  sensation,  all  ap- 
plauding his  ingenuity  and  cunning.  He  became  the 
hero  of  the  hour,  and  the  old  father  was  so  tickled 
that  he  gave  him  another  supply  of  ponies,  to  enable 
him  to  begin  his  married  life  in  style  suitable  to  his 
birth  and  talents. 

Girls  generally  marry  very  soon  after  the  age  of 
puberty,  the  father  as  a  rule  being  anxious  to  realize 
her  value,  and  the  girl,  with  true  feminine  instinct  in 
these  matters,  wishing  to  be  a  woman  and  have  a 
husband  as  soon  as  jiossible. 

Sometimes  a  father  gets  "  hard  up  "  and  has  to  sell 
his  girls  while  they  are  yet  mere  children.  These 
are  bought  up  cheap  by  well-to-do  bucks,  who  give 
them,  even  while  mere  children,  all  the  rights  and 
privileges  as  wives. 

San-a-co,  a  Comanche  chief,  and  the  best  Indian 
from  our  standpoint  I  have  ever  known,  had  as  wife 
a  pretty  little  maid  of  ten  years,  of  whom  he  was 
very  fond. 


■il 


mM 


I 


•XV 


WIDOWS   AND   ORPHANS. 


217 


T 


miijm 


111  March,  1880,  "Red  Pipe,"  a  Cheyenne,  sold  his 
little  unformed  daughter  of  eleven  years,  to  be  the 
wife  of  a  man  old  enough  to  be  her  grandfather; 
and  I  have  known  several  other  warriors  who  have 
mere  children  as  their  third  or  fourth  wives. 

Either  from  lack  of  suitable  food,  or  the  constant 
drudgery  of  her  hard  life,  the  Indian  woman,  though 
perfectly  healthy,  is  not  prolific.  The  mother  of  even 
four  children  is  very  rare,  and  many  women  are  bar- 
ren. The  average  in  most  bands  is  scarcely  more 
than  two  children  to  each  woman ;  while  some  lodges, 
even  where  there  are  several  wives,  are  childless. 

The  widows  and  orphans  of  a  tribe  are  cared  for 
after  a  fashion  by  the  "dog-soldiers,"  who,  in  the 
general  division  of  meat  and  skins,  set  aside  a  por- 
tion for  their  maintenance.  This,  when  buffalo  were 
plenty,  was  sufficient  for  their  wants ;  but  the  present 
scarcity  of  game  and  scanty  issues  of  the  Indian 
Department  cause  no  little  sufiering  among  this 
class. 

Among  the  Plains  tribes  a  woman,  on  the  death  of 
her  husband,  becomes  not  only  herself  free,  but  the 
owner  of  her  female  children  as  property,  provided 
that  no  man  has  gained  a  lien  on  them  by  marrying 
the  oldest  daughter.  The  sons  are  independent,  but 
are  obliged  to  support  the  mother  and  sisters,  if  old 
enough,  or  if  they  have  no  families  of  their  own. 

The  widows  are  like  thei?  white  sisters  in  their 
aversion  to  the  sweets  of  single  blessedness,  and,  if 
at  all  young  and  good-looking,  are  soon  married 
again.  The  old  and  ugly,  who  have  no  sons  to  sup- 
port them,  not  unfrequently  purchase  for  themselves 
a  husband  by  giving  over  to  him  the  ownership  of 
their  daughters,  not  as  wives,  but  as  so  much  sale- 


■f 


d:- 


!>', 

'i^^ 


^.,-'r^ 


^ 


:;ir^ 


.^,,j.,,jj.„j. 


I 


* 


r 


<•'?■. 
?? 
*■ 


218 


A  chief's  plea. 


able  property.  The  life  of  an  Indian  woman,  who 
has  a  husband  to  provide  for  and  take  care  of  her, 
is  so  much  more  secure  from  insult  and  outrage,  so 
much  freer  from  the  chance  of  hunger  and  want, 
that  every  woman  greatly  prefers  even  the  annoy- 
ance of  a  bad  husband  to  the  precarious  hazards  of 
widowhood. 

A  grave  trouble  to  the  Indians,  and  one  of  which 
I  have  heard  many  complaints,  is  the  number  of 
widows  and  orphans  left  on  their  hands  by  white 
men.  The  Indians  have  this  whole  matter  in  their 
own  hands,  having  but  to  prohibit  their  women  from 
marrying  white  men.  But  this  is  not  at  all  to  their 
taste.  A  father  can  get  for  his  daughter  possibly 
twice  as  much  from  a  white  man  as  an  Indian  would 
pay,  and  he  sells  at  the  highest  price.  To  prohibit 
his  selling  his  own  property  would  be  regarded  as  an 
invasion  of  his  most  sacred  and  vested  rights.  Having 
sold  and  got  his  price,  he  feels  himself  relieved  of  all 
responsibility  regarding  her.  She  should  henceforth 
be  supported  by  the  husband;  and  the  father  regards 
it  as  a  hardship,  an  outrage,  a  real  cause  of  complaint, 
to  be  obliged,  even  partially,  tr  assist  in  the  support 
of  a  woman,  his  own  daughter,  sacrificed  by  his 
cupidity  to  a  man  whom  he  knew  would  abandon  her 
sooner  or  later. 

At  the  very  important  council  at  North  Platte  in 
1867,  one  of  the  chiefs  spoke  feelingly  on  this  subject. 
He  said  that  his  tribe  was  poor  and  could  not  support 
the  widows  and  orphans  left  on  their  hands  by  white 
men,  and  begged  that  special  provision  might  be 
made  by  the  Government  for  them. 

One  old  childless  widow  was  earnestly  recom- 
mended   to    particular    consideration.      Subsequent 


•y 


sfl. :-."■»  ^. ■',;■■ 


■  ^p'^r 


■-'iM)*,' 


•  ifiajyr,: 


MASSACRE   OF   LIEUT.   KIDDER'S   COMMAND.      219 


•^ 


1 


examination  of  her  claims  disclosed  the  following 
facts,  remarkable  even  among  the  many  curious  and 
wonderful  Plains  histories. 

The  spring  and  summer  of  18G7  had  seen  a  suc- 
cession of  raids,  plunderings  and  murders.  All  the 
PUiins  tribes  were  "  on  the  war  path,"  making  a  last 
desperate  effort  for  the  preservation  of  their  favorite 
hunting  grounds,  the  country  between  the  South 
Platte  and  Arkansas  Rivers,  commonly  known  as  the 
RepubHcan  Country.  Custer  with  a  considerable 
force  was  operating  between  the  Kansas  Pacific  Rail- 
road and  the  Platte  River.  It  was  necessary  to 
communicate  with  him.  Lieutenant  Kidder  and  thir- 
teen men  of  the  2nd  Cavalry,  with  "  Red  Bead,"  a 
friendly  Sioux  chief,  as  guide,  were  sent  from  Fort 
Sedgwick  to  intercept  him.  The  Lieutenant  was 
very  wary  and  used  every  precaution  against  sur- 
prise, making  no  camps,  but  halting  at  uncertain 
intervals  to  rest  and  refresh  his  men  and  animals.  He 
had,  however,  to  deal  with  "  Pawnee  Killer,"  the  most 
redoubtable  of  all  the  hostile  chiefs,  and  from  whom 
this  account  comes. 

One  night  Lieutenant  Kidder  marched  until  nearly 
morning,  then  halted,  and,  without  making  fires  or 
unsaddling,  allowed  his  exhausted  men  to  lie  down 
and  sleep.  Pawnee  Killer,  who  was  attending  him 
like  a  fate,  crawled  with  a  large  force  on  to  the  sleep- 
ing men,  and  just  at  dawn,  one  volley  sent  every 
sleeper,  save  two,  to  his  long  account.  These  two 
men  were  a  corporal  and  "  Red  Bead."  The  corporal 
sprung  to  his  feet,  pistol  in  hand,  and  as  the  enemy 
rushed  upon  him,  fired  two  shots,  killing  the  two 
Lidians  in  advance.  Before  he  could  do  more  he  was 
riddled  with  bullets.     "  Red  Bead  "  ran,  was  pursued, 


■ 


220 


MABRIAQE   OF  RELATIONS. 


, » V 


-f,- 


^^S'' 

k- 


'f<: 


and,  in  spite  of  his  Indian  cunning  and  endurance, 
was  overtaken  and  killed.* 

The  two  men  killed  by  the  corporal  in  his  last  gal- 
lant effort,  were  the  half-breed  sons  of  the  old  widow 
by  a  trapper  who  had  abandoned  her  twenty  years 
before.  By  their  courage,  ferocity  and  cunning,  these 
two  half-breeds  had  gained  great  influence  among  the 
tribe,  and  their  companions  vented  their  rage  on  the 
lifeless  bodies  of  their  white  victims,  by  unusual  muti- 
lation and  barbarity;  and  hoping  forever  to  toi'mcnt 
their  souls,  left  the  head  unscalped,  but  transfixed  the 
bodies  with  arrows  innumerable. 

Some  time  afterwards  the  remains  were  found  by 
troops,  and  properly  buried. 

In  looking  fo'*  a  wife  the  man  is  careful  to  select 
one  who  has  no  blood  relationship  to  himself.  A  man 
who  would  marry  a  whole  lodge  full  of  sisters  will 
not  think  for  an  instant  of  marrying  his  own  cousin, 
even  though  twice  removed.  The  relationship  of  first 
cousin  is  regarded  as  almost  the  same  as  brother  and 
sister,  and  the  affection  of  these  close  relationships  is 
very  warm  ar  1  tender. 

It  is  a  very  remarkable  fact,  as  showing  the 
utter  want  of  chivalrous  feeling  among  Indians, 
that  though  the  brother  may  love  his  sister  most 
tenderly,  he  never,  under  any  circumstances,  inter- 
feres to  protect  her  from  insult,  or  to  avenge  her 
outrage  by  other  bucks. 

There^  are  very  few  madmen  or  idiots  among  the 
Indians.  They  are  never  confined  or  maltreated, 
but,  being  looked  upon  as  directly  under  the  malevo- 
lent influence  of  the  Bad  God,  are  rather  avoided. 

Some  years  ago  a  gentleman,  now  a  prominent 
scientist,  was  in  pursuit  of  knowledge  on  the  Upper 

•  See  note  on  page  223. 


,-,'tiA''.fi.Li-S«.-Til*l   ■ 


_.r^j,u  t^imt 


K 

> 

•.J 


c 

H 

5 

w 

> 


M 

5 
n 

n 

o 


c 


X 

r. 
C 

<• 

pi 


n 
K 


■^:Vf:'w^''ri:w''\ 


^}'?-";.;^.r. 


^ 


•V* 


'^■'?;\ 


■ '.IV'  .:,«io-'' ";.•■.  ■,'< 


A  SOIBNTIPIO  LUN-ATIC. 


223 


Missouri.  In  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  his  friends 
and  the  captain,  he  insisted  on  being  put  off  the 
steamboat,  that  he  might  walk  across  a  great  bend 
which  it  would  take  the  boat  some  days  to  go 
around. 

In  a  country  full  of  hostile  Sioux,  without  a 
blanket  or  mouthful  to  eat,  he  started  alone,  armed 
only  with  his  butterfly  net  and  loaded  only  with 
his  pack  for  carrying  specimens.  One  day,  when 
busily  occupied,  he  suddenly  found  himself  sur- 
rounded by  Indians.  He  showed  no  fear,  and  was 
carried  to  the  village.  His  pack  was  found  loaded 
with  insects,  bugs,  and  loathsome  reptiles.  The 
Indians  decided  that  a  white  man  who  would  come 
alone  into  that  country  unarmed,  without  food  or 
bedding,  for  the  accumulation  of  such  things,  must 
be  crazy;  so,  the  pack  having  been  destroyed  as 
"bad  medicine,"  the  doctor  was  carefully  led  out 
of  camp  and  turned  loose. 

Note.  — The  story  of  the  "  Kidder  Massacre,"  as  given  on  page  219, 
was  told  me  by  the  Cheyenne  Chief  Turkey  Leg  in  the  fall  of  1867.  It 
is  now  known  that  the  details  are  utterly  untrue.  I  give  this  version  as 
an  evidence  how  cunningly  the  Tndian  can  lie,  when  he  has  a  purpose  to 
serve,  and  because  the  truth  can  now  do  no  good,  and  would  needlessly 
harrow  the  feelings  of  the  frienus  of  the  victims.  The  fiswts  in  the  case 
are  detailed  in  Custer's  "  Life  on  the  Plains." 


•r 


CHAPTER  xyn. 

INDIAJT     NAMES,      TITLES,     K^T)      EPITHETS — THEIR 
MEANING  AND   SIGNIFICANCE.  —  THE    TOTEM. 


Indian  Idea  of  their  Origin  —  Traditions  —  The  Family  Coat  of  Arms  — 
The  Totem,  and  What  It  Is  —  Surnames  —  Pet  Names  —  Titles  — 
Nicknames  —  Palpable  Hits  —The  Original  "  Punch  "  —  Odd  Traits 
and  Fancies  Indicated  by  Names  —  Why  Indians  Name  Tliemsdves 
—  Curious  Titles —  "  White  Eagle"  — "Lone  Wolf"  — "Yellow 
Bear  "  —  "  Powder  Face  "  —  ••  Man-Afraid-of-His-IIorses  "  —  Loafing 
•*  Jims"  and  Indolent  "Tonys"  —  Unblushing  Beggary  —  Effect  of 
Incident  and  Adventure  —  An  Ill-Fated  Exiiedition  —  An  Unsolved 
Mystery — The  Place  of  Lost  Souls  —  The  "  Great  American  Bull- 
Whacker" —  The  "Picketwire"  —  Indian  Nicknames  of  Army  OfH- 
cers  —  Ridiculous  Appellations  —  Gray  Beard  —  General  Crook's 
Indian  Name  — Why  they  Call  Ilim  "The  Gray  Fox." 

HE  recognition  of  relationships  may  be 
regarded  as  the  first  broad  step  be- 
tween the  lower  reason  of  the  animal 
and  the  higher  reason  of  the  man.  An 
animal  brings  its  offspring  into  exist- 
ence, cares  for  it  until  maturity,  then 
dismisses  it,  to  become  in  time  the  pos- 
sible mate  of  parents,  brothers  or  sisters. 
Man  alone  recognizes  relationships,  and  this 
distinctive  feature  is  discovered  even  among  the  most 
debased  of  the  race. 

Very  few  tribes  of  North  American  Indians  have 
any  tradition  as  to  the  origin  of  creation;  almost  all 
have  traditions  as  to  the  origin  of  families.     Some  of 

224 


W/i 


t- 


9-::iCJk 


;|-... 


;ii*  ■;;-■■„«:■."«-- 


•V* 


THE   TOTEM. 


225 


the  tribes  on  our  extreme  northern  frontier  are  said 
to  believe  that  the  whole  tribe  is  the  miraculous  result 
of  the  intercourse  of  some  god  or  spirit  with  some 
animal,  bird,  fish,  or  reptile,  but  this  belief  is  not  at 
all  general.  As  a  rule,  they  recognize  the  fact  that 
the  tribe  is  a  mere  aggregation  of  families,  each  one 
of  which,  however,  firmly  believes  that  it  thus  de- 
scended from  some  one  of  the  lower  order  of  creation. 
Even  in  the  most  barbarous  of  these  tribes  each  family 
has  such  a  tradition  of  origin,  and  evinces  more  or 
less  pride  of  blood. 

The  representation  of  that  animal,  bird,  or  reptile 
becomes  the  "  coat  of  arms  "  of  the  whole  family.  Its 
skin,  carefully  stuffed,  bedecked  with  ornaments  and 
feathers,  is  tied  to  a  staff  and  carried  about  in  the 
hand  on  grand  full-dress  occasions.  In  good  weather 
it  is  frequently  stuck  up  in  front  of  the  door  of  the 
lodge,  and  when  the  head  of  the  family  dies  it  is 
suspended  to  the  top  of  a  strong,  high  pole,  which 
is  firmly  planted  beside  his  grave.  It  is  the  family 
crest,  the  title  of  honor,  the  symbol  of  its  ancestry 
and  descent,  and 'whatever  may  be  the  name  of  the  in- 
dividual of  that  family,  his  signature  is  a  rude  repre- 
sentation of  the  creature  to  which  he  believes  he  owes 
his  origin. 

This  is  the  Totem.  It  is  not  a  mystery,  and  has  no 
religious  meaning  or  significance.  It  must  not  be 
confounded  with  the  "  Medicine-bag,"  which  is  purely 
religious,  and  the  contents  of  which  are  a  secret  be- 
tween the  Indian  and  his  gods. 

Like  the  Jews  of  the  Old  Testament,  Indians  have 
no  surnames.  Among  the  Jews,  individuals  were 
identified  by  being  members  of  one  or  other  of  twelve 
tribes  j  among  Indians,  they  are  identified  as  belong- 


226 


NICKNAMES. 


'">■■ 


ing  to  one  or  other  of  the  comparatively  few  families 
into  which  the  tribes  are  divided.  Were  it  not  for 
this  arrangement  it  would  be,  in  the  absence  of  sur- 
names, an  almost  impossibility  for  them  to  keep  track 
of  their  relationships.  The  splitting  of  tribes  into 
two  or  more  bands,  as  described  in  Chapter  TI.,  re- 
sults also  in  splits  in  families;  and  at  the  present 
time,  in  tribes  which  have  no  tradition  of  former  rela- 
tionships, there  will  be  found  families  having  the  same 
totem,  indicating  a  common  descent,  and  these  recog- 
nize relationships  to  each  other. 

In  the  matter  of  names,  Indians  are  a  very  peculiar 
people.  A  man  may  have  a  dozen  names,  or  no  name 
at  all.  He  may  name  himself,  or  be  named  by  his 
companions. 

The  male  child  is  called  by  some  diminutive  or  pet 
name,  sometimes  expressive  of  the  pride  and  affection 
of  the  father,  but  more  commonly  something  equiva- 
lent to  the  "  Toodelums  "  and  "  Tweetlebugs  "  of  fond 
T:hite  fathers  and  mothers.  This  is  his  name  in  his 
own  family.  By  others  he  is  spoken  of  as  ''  the  son 
of  so-and-so,"  or  he  may  be  given  a  "name  by  his  boy 
companions,  either  in  admiration  or  derision. 

All  the  world  knows  the  fondness  of  boys  for  be- 
stowing nicknames,  and  the  Indian  boy  is  no  excep- 
tion. But,  a  nickname,  to  stick,  must  be  palpably 
applicable  or  appropriate  to  the  character  or  some 
peculiarity  of  the  person  named.  At  a  school  or 
college  a  fourth  or  possibly  half  of  each  class  will  have 
nicknames,  the  others  not. 

So  the  nicknames  given  by  Indian  boys  do  not  al- 
ways stick,  and  I  have  met  several  full-grown  war- 
riors who  have  no  names,  and  are  known  only  as  their 
father's  sons. 


la 


•    » 

4  m 


'^Ykr:X'}'^:;0?" 


".•nr 


c     Tt  iV  V-.      t    r^^  /, 


l« 


HOW   NAMES   ARE   ADOPTED. 


227 


On  his  initiation  as  warrior,  which  to  him  is  a  cere- 
mony equivalent  to  baptism  among  Christians,  he 
has  the  right  to  name  himself,  and  from  this  time 
he  has  the  right,  and  it  is  his  custom,  to  change  his 
name  after  every  successful  raid  or  expedition,  each 
change  of  name  being  expressive  of  the  fullest  appre- 
ciation of  his  own  impoi'tancc  and  exploits. 

These  names  are  intended  to  be  expressive  of  some 
particular  action  or  situation,  and  are  generally  adapt- 
ed to  a  real  or  fancied  resemblance  of  the  actor  to  the 
known  habits  of  animals  or  birds  with  which  they  are 
familiar.  Thus  a  warrior  who,  brought  to  bay,  has 
beaten  off  his  enemies,  names  himself  the  "  Standing 
Bull;"  another  who  makes  a  dash  on  a  camp  or  vil- 
lage, and  carries  off  a  woman  or  child,  calls  himself 
the  "  Eagle ; "  yet  another^  who  goes  off  alone,  and 
prowling  about  the  enemy's  camp,  returns  with  stories 
or  evidence  of  successful  ri\pine,  names  himself 
"  Lone  Wolf."  The  paint  used  on  all  these  expedi- 
tions has  more  or  less  potent  influence  on  the  "  medi- 
cine," and  he  does  not  forget  its  efficacy,  conse- 
quently many  names  indicate  not  only  the  action,  but 
the  color  of  his  paint.  The  most  common  names, 
therefore,  among  Indians,  are  those  indicating  some 
animals  or  material  object  as  a  sort  of  surname,  while 
the  color  with  which  he  has  bedecked  himself  furnishes 
the  first,  or  what  we  would  call  the  Christian  name; 
as  "Yellow  Bear,"  «  White  Eagle,"  "  Black  Beaver," 
"  Red   Dog,"  etc.,  etc. 

But  these  changes  of  name,  though  gratifying  to 
his  own  vanity,  are  not  always  accepted  by  his  com- 
panions or  the  tribe  generally.  Even  the  most  re- 
nowned warriors  cannot  always  control  the  disposition 
to  ridicule  or  nickname,  which  the  Indians  possess  in 

15 


k'  •*« 


tAUiSii 


:£i!f-.' 


v.Y.^i 


'•i^v< 


} 


f-^v 


*'''*..'>'■"   "'•"■.iV.''-'''' 


228 


■■■■  ^,^■  ";>\'-;> >^ . : ■  !^ ' f'^i^v^'i??;':'  ";■;■ ':-|,-i 


GIRLS*   XAMES. 


a  remarkable  degree,  and  however  he  may  name  him- 
self, he  is  likely  to  be  addressed,  knov/n,  and  si)oken 
of  by  the  people  of  the  tribe  by  an  entirely  different 
name. 

Any  personal  defect,  deformity  of  character,  or 
casual  incident  fm'nishing  ground  for  a  good  story,  is 
eagerly  seized  upon  as  a  fit  name.  "  Powdei' Face," 
the  war  chief  of  the  Airapahoes,  has  won, in  Avell  fought 
combats  and  desperate  ventures,  the  right  to  adopt  a 
dozen  names,  yet  ho  is  known  to  all  Phiins  tribes,  and 
to  the  whites,  by  tlie  title  which  was  given  him  from 
having  his  face  badly  burned  by  an  explosion  of 
powder  when  he  was  a  young  man.  "  Man-afiaid-of- 
his-horses,"  received,  it  is  said,  his  name  from  hav- 
ing, on  the  occasion  of  an  attack  on  his  camp  by 
hostile  Indians,  saved  his  horses  but  left  his  family  in 
the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

Some  of  these  names  are  expressive  of  early  indis- 
cretions, as  "  Pa-ha-yu-ka ;"  others  of  utter  contempt, 
as  "Mu-la-que-top;"  but  it  is  a  curious  fact  that,  how- 
ever unworthy,  vulgar,  or  opprobrious  the  title  by 
which  a  warrior  is  commonly  known  in  his  tribe,  he  is 
sure  in  his  maturer  years  to  acquiesce  in  and  ac- 
cept it. 

Girls  arc  named  by  their  mothers,  and  frequently 
have  fanciful  titles  indicating  something  that  the 
mother  may  think  worthy  of  commemoration,  as  the 
Hebrew  women  of  the  Old  Testament  named  their 
children.  This  name  in  the  family  is  liable  to  be 
lengthened  by  affectionate  diminutives,  or  contracted 
into  a  nickname,  but  it  is  not  changed  as  the  names 
of  boys. 

Married  women  do  not  take  the  names  of  their  hus- 
bands, or  change  their  names  in  any  way.    There  are 


K 


t 


V^ 


;*, 


■.K.   .  ,di;-.'^/.' 


ipip 


r 


^-.. 


I. 


'^sfew?'. 


mimmmmgi 


BEAUTIFUL   imyiAN  NAMES. 


229 


no  equivalents  for  Mr.  or  Mrs.,  and  in  her  name,  title 
or  designation,  there  is  nothing  to  show  whether  a 
woman  is  single  or  married. 

When  on  reservations,  or  thrown  into  elose  contact 
with  whites,  the  Indian  is  prone  to  adopt  some  "white  " 
name,  and  at  every  military  post  near  a  reservation 
there  is  always  a  lazy  lot  of  "Jims,"  "Bills,"  "Franks  " 
or  "  Tonys  "  loafing  as  an  occupation,  and  living  by 
the  most  unblushing  beggary. 

Almost  every  river,  creek,  spring,  permanent  water- 
hole,  mountain  or  prominent  landmark,  has  a  name 
given  to  it,  not  only  by  the  tribe  in  whose  country  it 
is,  but  by  those  who  raid  into  that  country.  In  most 
cases,  they  are  named  from  some  peculiarity,  incident, 
or  adventure.  Tiiese  names  in  the  soft  language  of 
the  Dacotas  are  oftentimes  very  beautiful.  "Minni" 
in  this  language  means  water;  "Minni-ha-ha"  is 
"  laughing  or  frolicsome  water,"  given  to  all  falls  and 
cascades;  " Minni-cot-ta "  is  "  warm  water,"  and  one 
of  the  bands  takes  its  name  from  the  fact  that  it  was 
once  nearly  destroyed  by  a  waterspout,  "  Minni-con- 
jou,"  "  drowned  with  water." 

In  some  cases,  the  striking  and  beautiful  Indian 
names  arc  retained,  but  in  the  large  majority  of  in- 
stances the  names  on  the  map,  and  by  which  they  are 
known  to  the  Avhites,  are  either  crude  translations  of 
the  Indian  names  or  such  others  as  happen  to  suggest 
themselves  to  the  army  officer  who  first  makes  the 
survej'  of  the  country.  The  consequence  is,  that  the 
maps  are  crowded  with  "  Sand  Creeks,"  "  Deer 
Creeks,"  "AValnut  Creeks,"  etc.,  etc. 

A  curious  and  interesting  story  was  told  me  by  an 
old  Mexican,  apropos  to  the  name  of  what  is  known 
on  our  map  as  the  "  Purgatory  River." 


■»■ 


n 


»/«.     ;     \  <>t: 


^i  i 


230 


■  3*;    .>■--■  ■',■  "■  ■,  rS* 


THE   PICKET  WIRE. 


'■■^■'  ^>•;.' 


When  Spain  owned  all  Mexico  and  Florida,  the 
Commanding  Officer  at  Santa  Fe  received  an  order  to 
open  communication  with  Florida.  An  Infantry  Kegi- 
ment  was  selected  for  this  duty.  It  started  rather  late 
in  the  season,  and  wintered  at  a  place  which  has  been 
a  town  ever  since,  and  is  now  known  as  Trinidad.  In 
the  spring,  the  colonel,  leaving  behind  al!  camp  fol- 
lowers—  both  men  and  women  —  marched  down  the 
stream  which  flows  for  many  miles  through  a  magnifi- 
cent canon.  Not  one  of  the  regiment  I'eturned  or 
wac  ever  heard  of  after,  their  fate  being  shrouded  in 
mystery. 

When  all  hope  had  departed  from  the  wives,  children 
and  friends,  left  behind  in  Trinidad,  information  was 
sent  to  Santa  Fe,  and  a  wail  went  up  through  the  land. 
The  priests  and  people  called  this  stream,  "  EI  rio  dc 
las  animas  perdidas,"  '^The  River  of  the  lost  Souls." 

Years  after,  when  the  Spanish  power  was  weakened 
and  Canadian  French  trappers  permeated  the  coun- 
try, they  adopted  a  more  concise  name.  The  place  of 
lost  souls  being  purgatory,  they  called  the  river  "  Le 
Purgatoire."  Then  came  the  "Great  American  Bull- 
whacker,"  he  whose  persistent  efforts  opened  and 
maintained  the  enormous  trade  between  Santa  Fe  and 
St.  Louis.  Utterly  unable  to  twist  his  tongue  into 
any  such  Frenchified  expression,  he  called  the  river 
the  "  Picketwire,"  and  by  this  name  it  is  known  to  all 
frontiersmen  and  to  the  settlers  on  its  banks. 

As  a  rule  each  tribe  has  its  own  name  fr-r  the 
larger  rivers  of  the  plains,  though  some  arc  said  to 
have  names  common  to  all  those  tribes  who  live  near 
or  occasionally  visit  them. 

The  following  are  the  Cheyenne  names  of  some  of 
the  larger  Plains  streams :  — 


•«£M 


^liPPiiPippiiPinPiP 


PpniP^PPHni^pi 


11 


NAMING   WHITES. 


231 


r 


EnKlIflh  Name. 

Cheyenno  Name. 

Translation. 

Kansas. 

Mi-on-i-on. 

Bluff. 

Arkansas. 

Mit-sun. 

Big. 

Cimarron. 

Ilo-to-oa-oa. 

Buffalo. 

North  Fork. 

Ilon-ne-o. 

Wolf. 

Canadian. 

Mai-oin. 

Red. 

Washita. 

0-ke-a-a. 

Lodge-pole. 

Red. 

Ma-ka-inis-sa-va. 

Big-sand. 

Rio  Grande. 

Wo-jjo-mots. 

Salt. 

Missouri. 

Tsis-ta-to-c-o. 

Steamboat. 

1  , 


Every  white  man  of  consequence,  with  whom  tho 
[ndian  comes  in  contact,  secures  a  name  suggested  by 
his  occupation  or  some  personal  peculiarity.  The 
commanding  officer  of  a  post  is  always  "  the  big 
chief,-'  the  Quartermaster  the  "mule  chief,"  and  the 
Commissary  "  the  chuck-chief,"  but  the  other  officers 
come  in  for  a  full  share  of  ridiculous  names,  as  "long 
beard,"  "  gray  beard,"  "  bald  head,"  "crooked  leg,"  etc. 

On  his  campaigns  Avith,  and  against  Indians, 
General  Crook  always  wears  a  full  suit  of  gray. 
This  taken  in  connection  with  his  wiliness,  has  sug- 
gested his  up.i^e,  and  he  is  known  to  all  Indians  as 
the  "  Gray  Fox." 


*  li 


■I 


tarn. 


ciM- 


}^\'<^^f.:.-t  «o.>:«i'''/j--.. 


w,i.i'.,J'i»!<V'ii»'i.k?i?isK\i*,Js 


y^X'''C.yfAA~i 


3fKJ 


■  '■ '.  y 


^ 

^m^ 

^Pi^ 

!^fS^^^v*!^r?<^'--'#i5^ 

1^ 

^ 

' ' 

■>?-rV, 

''^ii?'-- 

- .  f ...    ■ 

•-7;f  ,-.,■ 

'i< 

I,,-' 

,j    ■•jc 

1 

1^' 

CHAPTER  XVIIT. 

EVERYDAY    INDIAN    LIFE  —  SIGHTS    AXD    SCENES    IN 
INDIiXJV    HOMES,    TEEPES,    AND    WINTER    CAJMPS. 

An  Indiiin  Toopo  — How  it  is  Miulo  — The  "Wicky-Up"  — It.«  Con- 
struction  —  Tccpo  Furnishings  —  Heils  Uiat  uve  Never  "  Miule  Up  " — 
Meal  Hours — The  Lnxuryof  Baker's  Bread  —  Indian  Hospitality  — 
The  First  Ciianoe  at  the  Pot —  Scenting  a  Dinner  from  Afar  — Enter- 
tiining  You  To-day  and  Taking  Your  Scalp  To-morrow  —  How 
Indians  Select  a  Camping-Place — Looking  Out  for  Danger  —  The 
"Public  Square"  and  Crier  —  Selecting  a  Site  for  the  Winter  Camp 
—  An  Indian  Village  —  General  Custer's  Exploit— His  Fortunate 
Escapi!  — A  Cold-Blooded  Ruflian  —  Paid  "by  the  Scalp''— Two 
Hundred  and  Fifty  Scalps  at  One  Fight—  Days  and  Nights  of  Feast- 
ing and  Revehy  —  '•  Love  Rules  tlie  Camp"—  Sketclies  from  Life. 

isK^f>^^^^  habitations  of  the  Indians  are  con- 
^^^^ir  k/^     striictcd  in  many  different  Avays,  vary- 
in";  with  the  necessities  or  the  state  of 
advancement  of  the  tribe.     Eacli  par- 
ticular style  of  structure  has  a  name  of 
its  own,  in  Indian  language,  but   all 
Wl^    arc  comprehended  in  the  English  word 
.^  "  lodge." 

Tile  ordinary  home  of  most  of  the  Plains 
Indians  is  called  by  them  a  "teepe."  It  is  a 
conical  tent,  made  of  dressed  buffalo  skins,  or  of 
'  late  years  of  cotton  cloth,  supported  on  a  framework 
of  light  peeled  poles,  spread  out  at  the  bottom 
in  a  circle,  and  crossed  near  the  top.  It  is  from 
twelve  to  eighteen  feet  in  diameter,  and  from  twelve 
to  fifteen  feet  high.     The  covering,  of  whatever  ma- 

232 


•\ '. 


:'« «. 


I}: 

■It 


■'Vfc'-: 


m 


PITCHING   A   TEEPE. 


233 


•  ■  ft' 


terial,  is  cut  into  the  form  of  a  cono,  and  sowed 
'tightly,  except  one  straight  seam  from  top  to  bottom, 
which  is  liistened  by  a  lacing  from  the  top  to  within 
four  or  five  feet  of  the  ground.  The  opening  thus  left 
is  the  doorway,  the  door  itself  being  a  buffalo  robe  or 
piece  of  cloth,  fastened  above,  and  left  to  hang  loose, 
except  in  bad  weather,  when  it  can  be  tightly  stretched 
by  thongs  attached  to  the  lower  coi-ners. 

Fi'om  its  size  and  weight  the  teepe  would  seem  to 
be  an  unwieldy  arrangement,  little  adapted  to  con- 
venience of  moving;  but  it  is  really  remarkable  how 
easily  and  quickly  it  is  put  up  or  taken  down  by  those 
accustomed  to  its  use.  The  ground  being  selected, 
the  teepe  is  spread  out  upon  it.  Three  poles  are 
loosel}'  tied  together  near  the  smaller  ends,  and  thrust 
under  the  covering,  passed  through  the  orifice  in  the 
top,  raised  upright,  and  the  lower  ends  spread  out  as 
far  as  possible.  A  rope  or  thong  attached  to  the 
top  of  the  covering  is  then  thrown  over  the  place  of 
crossing  of  the  poles.  One  woman  pulls  on  the  end 
of  this  rope  (exactly  as  a  sailor  in  setting  a  sail), 
while  another  widens  the  tripod  of  poles  until  the 
covering  is  stretched  vertically  and  laterally.  The 
other  poles  are  then  canied  in  one  by  one,  the  small 
end  thrust  through  the  top  opening,  is  laid  against 
the  point  of  crossing  of  the  first  three,  the  large  end 
being  carried  out  as  far  as  possible.  "When  all  the 
poles  are  in,  they  are  arranged  equidistant,  in  a  sym- 
metrical circle,  stretching  the  covering  as  tightly  as 
possible.  A  few  wooden  pins  driven  into  the  gi'ound 
through  slits  in  the  bottom  of  the  covering,  on  the 
outside,  and  the  teepe  is  pitched. 

When  it  is  to  be  taken  down  all  the  loose  poles  are 
carried  out,  the  rope  holding  the  covering  in  place  is 


I 


.4. 


At. 


•■  -  --"I'^'t^-j;  I'-^v    \,    '»''T7 '"'T.'.y*''  >  ' 


234 


TEEPE   ORNAMENTATIOX. 


1/4 


r4-.<- 


'/^ 


)*" 


loosened,  the  lower  ends  of  the  poles  forming  the  tri- 
pod arc  brouglit  near  to  each  other,  and  the  covering 
comes  down  of  its  own  weight.  Two  quick-working 
women  can  put  up  a  teepe  in  five  minutes,  and  take  it 
down  ill  three. 

All  well-constructed  tecpes  have  an  arrangement  to 
prevent  the  wind  from  blowing  directly  down  through 
the  opening  in  the  top.  This  varies  with  the  tribe  or 
inventive  genius  of  the  particular  Indian.  Sometimes 
it  is  a  sort  of  winged  cap,  managed  fi'om  below  l)y  a 
complicated  system  of  strings.  Ordinarily,  it  is  simply 
a  deei-  skin  or  piece  of  cloth  fastened  to,  and  between, 
two  poles,  which  are  laid  against  the  teepe  in  such  a 
way  that  the  screen  is  partially  above  and  on  the 
windward  side  of  the  lodge.  It  is  easily  managed, 
and  readily  shifted  with  the  wind. 

The  tcopes  of  buffalo  hide,  now  rare  except  among 
the  northern  Plains  Indians,  were  frequently  ehibo- 
rately  ornamented  with  paintings  representing  th(>  re- 
markable achievements  of  the  head  of  the  lodge,  or 
sometimes  with  representations  of  various  kinds,  sup- 
posed to  be  efficacious  in  keeping  away  evil  spirits. 

The  fire  is  built  in  the  centre,  and  the  smoke  is 
su])poscd  to  escape  through  an  aperture  in  tlie  top. 
The  draught  is,  however,  very  defective,  and  the 
teepe  is  usually,  whenever  a  fire  is  built,  too  full  of 
smoke  to  be  bearable  to  any  but  an  Indian. 

The  teepe  is  most  admirably  adapted  to  the  wants 
and  necessities  of  the  Indians.  Its  shape  secures  it 
from  being  overturned  by  wind  and  storms,  and  it  can 
be  kept  warm  and  comfortable,  even  in  the  coldest 
weather,  by  very  little  fuel,  a  most  important  desid- 
eratum on  the  treeless  Plains. 

The  other  kind  of  1  dge  is  called  a  ^*  wicky-up."     It 


t 


j«;:'  : \,i^ ^i^\f<'■i^yiJ.^l^&'■j(i•'■',:^1'>i,-!;:■■ 


, .  :.../• 


T^r 


'■^r> 


''■.A<  ^     •  :-,-!>\-'y 


THE   WICKY-UP. 


235 


is  a  temporary  hut,  constructed  of  small,  fresh-cut 
poles  or  wands,  the  large  ends  stuck  in  the  ground, 
the  small  ends  bent  over  and  fastened  together.  This 
framework  is  scarcely  ever  more  thart  three  or  four 
feet  high,  and  it  is  covered  with  skins,  blankets,  or 
cloths.  The  teepe  is  the  permanent  residence  of  the 
Indian,  the  wicky-up  the  make-shift  sleeping-place  on 
hunts  and  marches.  No  matter  how  tired  after  the 
day's  march ;  no  matter  what  may  be  the  pressing  ne- 
cessities of  advance  or  retreat;  no  matter  if  intending 
to  remain  in  camp  but  a  few  hours,  the  Plains  Indian 
never,  under  any  circumstances,  sleeps  in  the  open 
air.  He  must  be  protected  from  above,  and  if  pos- 
sessing but  one  blanket,  he  will  make  his  framework, 
spread  the  blanket  over  it,  and  sleep  on  the  bare 
ground,  even  in  the  coldest  weather.  Whether  this 
ie  superstition  or  a  habit  derived  from  long  experi- 
ence I  am  unable  to  say,  though  I  think  it  originated 
in  a  fear  of  evil  spirits.  When  asked  about  it,  they 
curtly  reply  that  it  is  "  not  good  to  sleep  out." 

An  Indian  out  alone  will  build  for  himself  such  a 
lodge,  not  larger  than  a  dog-kennel,  —  so  small,  in- 
deed, that  it  seems  impossible  for  a  man  to  get  into  it. 
In  cold  weather  he  will  build  a  true  Indian  fire  in  the 
centre  pf  the  small  space,  and  curl  himself  contentedly 
around  it.  I  have  examined  hundreds  of  these  little 
wicky-ups,  and  always  with  increased  wonder  as  to 
how  the  Indian  managed  to  get  into  and  sleep  in  it 
without  knocking  down  the  whole  affair.  Larger 
parties  are  equally  economical  of  space,  or  labor, 
and  I  have  often  had  my  credulity  tested  by  being 
assured  by  my  Indian  guide  that  ten,  twelve,  or 
moi'c  Indians  slept  in  a  wicky-up,  which  I  could  have 
declared  would  not  hold  scarcely  half  the  number. 


1     V 


:.:fAa^.i^;feU. 


•!»■._ 


,/•'.' 


r-i,^ 


II' 


y 


y 


it*ej   • 


236 


AN  INDIAN  BEDSTEAD. 


The  Omaha  Indians  make  a  lodge  by  planthig 
forked  poles  in  the  ground  in  a  square  or  rectangle. 
Other  poles  are  laid  on  these  forks,  and  on  these  light 
wands,  on  which  are  fastened  skins,  cloths,  blankets  — 
anything  that  will  keep  out  rain,  (no  easy  matter,  as  they 
are  too  ignorant  to  give  sufficient  pitch  to  these  roofs) . 
The  sides  or  walls  are  formed  of  mats  made  of  peeled 
willow  wands  woven  together  with  strings.  When 
camp  is  moved,  these  mats  are  taken  down,  rolled  into 
small  compass,  and  packed  on  ponies. 

The  lodge  of  the  Osages  is  almost  exactly  the 
shape  of  a  wagon  with  its  bows.  Slender  poles  are 
set  in  the  ground  parallel  to  each  other,  at  proper  in- 
tervals, then  bent  over  and  tied  together.  Cross 
pieces  sufficient  to  make  the  structure  firm  are  then 
tied  on.  This  frame,  which  is  from  twelve  to  twenty 
feet  long  by  six  to  eight  wide,  is  entirely  covered  with 
a  cloth  in  one  piece,  like  a  wagon-cover,  a  flaj)  being 
left  for  a  door.  "When  moving  camp,  they  take  only 
the  cloth. 

Fi-om  the  brush  shelter  of  the  Digger,  the  log  and 
mud  huts  of  the  Navahoes,  to  the  elaborate  and  com- 
plicated piles  of  the  Pueblos,  almost  every  kind  of 
lodg )  common  to  savage  life  can  be  found  among  the 
North  American  Indians. 

The  beds  of  the  Plains  Indians  are  piles  of  buffalo 
robes  and  blankets  spread  on  the  ground  as  close  as 
possible  to  the  outer  circumference  of  the  teepe.  Of 
late  years,  the  more  vvci/.thy  make  a  bedstead  by  driv- 
ing forks  into  the  ground,  and  constructing  on  them 
a  platform  of  i)oles  a  few  inches  high.  This,  however, 
takes  up  i)recious  room,  end  is  only  found  in  teepes 
occupied  by  a  few  persons. 

Nearly  all  the  Plains  Indians  use  pillows  when  at 


t 


mm 


PIWBfflii 


•fi  ,>?'-'"*i''^  ("C'-' , 


:-.<■.-._' .  r  «^ 


INDIAN  FURNITUEE. 


237 


I 


t 


■W 


ic  in  llicir  teepes.  They  wore  formerly  made  al- 
most universally  of  a  rolled  buffalo  robe.  Now  they 
are  made  of  skins  of  some  of  the  smaller  animals  — 
a  fox  or  badger  —  stuffed  with  grass,  and  some  few 
have  seen  enough  of  the  comforts  of  civilized  life  to 
cover  them  with  cotton  cloth.  They  use  no  sheets, 
saying  they  are  cold  and  unhealthy.  The  beds,  hpw- 
ever  arranged,  serve  the  double  purpose  of  sleeping- 
places  by  night  and  seats  and  lounges  by  day.  They 
are  not  "made-up,"  though  on  fine  days  the  bedding 
may  be  taken  out,  shaken,  and  spread  in  the  sun. 
The  one  room,  serving  for  cooking,  eating,  living  and 
sleeping,  for  the  reception  of  company  and  the  loung- 
ing place  for  dogs,  soon  becomes  inconceivably  filthy. 

Except  the  bedding,  the  "  par-fleche"  trunks  con- 
taining the  dried  meat,  extra  clothing,  finery,  and 
valuables,  an  iron  pot  or  two,  a  kettle,  a  water-pail, 
and  a  few  tin  cups,  there  is  no  furniture;  nor  is  there 
any  attempt  at  order  in  the  arrangement  of  even  these 
few  articles. 

There  are  no  regular  hours  for  meals,  nor  is  there, 
as  a  rule,  more  than  one  meal  a  day.  A  pot  or  kettle 
full  of  meat  is  put  on  the  fire.  When  sufficiently 
boiled  it  is  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  and  the 
inmates  of  the  teepe,  crowding  around,  help  them- 
selves with  knives  or  fingers.  Some  few  of  the  more 
advanced  now  use  tin  or  delf  plates. 

Until  within  a  few  years  dried  buffalo  meat  was 
used  almost  univcsally  in  lieu  of  bread,  but  the  issues 
of  flour,  meal,  and  baking-powder  by  the  Indian  De- 
partment have  civilized  them  so  far  that  bread  is  al- 
most an  absolute  necessity,  and  many  of  the  squaws 
have  learned  to  make  quite  good  biscuits.  They  have 
not  yet  learned  the  art  of  making  baker's  bread,  but 


p: 


"^i 


.  *  *    ..f *.:,».■.■  :'.,i>-J;.'i 


ii(.;'.l.;isi,'(''it  ili"l^;\.>,.>:.*"<ji;.S»li.r-..iifA.i."'^-"ii'  s(^>    (..■".<;.  'Jf< 


'Urn 


■f?i5'V;, 


238 


HOSPITALITY. 


they  are  very  fond  of  it,  begging  or  buying  it  when- 
ever they  come  into  a  military  post. 

When  the  meal  is  finished,  the  pot  is  set  aside,  and 
when  any  one  gets  hungry  more  than  once  a  day,  he 
goes  without  ceremony  or  formal  preparation  and 
helps  himself. 

They  are  hospitable  to  each  other,  always,  if  they 
have  it,  offering  something  to  eat  to  visitors.  If  it  is 
known  that  there  is  anything  specially  good  to  eat  in 
any  lodge,  a  lot  of  loafers  will  ba  sure  to  drop  in, 
whenever  more  than  ordinary  smoke  indicates  that 
cooking  is  going  on.  These  spongers  always  have 
the  first  chance  at  the  pot,  the  occupants  of  the  teepe 
contenting  themselves  with  what  is  left. 

Tea,  coffee,  and  sugar  are  exceptions.  These  are 
carefully  hoarded  for  the  use  of  the  family,  and  given 
only  to  distinguished  visitors  on  grand  occasions. 

Strangers  arc  always  looked  upon  with  suspicion. 
Except  when  the  tribe  is  actually  at  'var,  a  stranger, 
either  white  or  Indian,  may,  by  asking  to  see  the  chief, 
gain  access  to  any  Indian  village.  Once  inside  its 
limits,  he  is  treated  hospitably,  and  is  safe  ;  but  there 
Is  nothing  of  the  Arab  about  the  "  Noble  Ked  Man," 
and  his  giving  you  a  good  meal  to-day  will  not  pre- 
vent his  taking  your  scalp  after  you  have  left  his 
camp  to-mori'ow. 

The  wealth  of  the  Indian  is  in  his  horses  and  mules. 
He  has  no  taste  or  desire  for  the  accumulation  of 
more  or  other  things  than  are  necessary  for  the  wants 
of  his  familv  for  the  time  being. 

Except  in  winter,  the  bands  lead  a  nomadic  life. 
Every  few  days  everything  has  to  be  packed  and  un- 
packed, put  on  horses  and  taken  oft'  again,  and  the 
women  who  have  to  do  all  this  work,  are  very  sure 


,.V:.'7 


l,i>;./*j^/t-j:t  ;t  ..,; 


„S'V.....K„i.. 


i^.,...  >...J.iUt'-.  ':.,}tL:^-^:h.[::  i.,-ik'^.,.. 


T 


g. 


*  - 


iii 


lI'' 


T 


W:'- 


|.. 


SELECTION   OF   CAMP   GROUNDS. 


239 


gradually  to  abandon  all  those  things  which  can  well 
be  spared. 

All  the  clothing,  finery,  and  smaller  valuables,  are 
packed  in  the  "  par-^fleches,"  which  are  easily  handled, 
but  everything  bulky  and  cumbersome,  and  not  of  ab- 
solute necessity,  is  thrown  away. 

Aaothcr  cause  of  their  poverty  is  the  necessity  of 
properly  fitting  out  the  dead  for  the  journey  to  the 
Happy  Hunting  Grounds.  They  must  have  cer- 
tain articles,  even  if  the  living  go  without,  and  this 
religious  necessity  keeps  many  families  ncai-ly  impov- 
erished in  most  articles  of  civilized  manufacture. 

Every  tribe  of  Indians  with  which  I  am  acquainted, 
understands  perfectly  the  art  of  selecting  a  camping- 
place  suited  to  its  special  necessities.  To  a  novice 
this  may  seem  easy,  but  it  is  really  so  difficult  that  I 
regard  it  as  the  final  test  of  a  Plainsman.  To  select 
the  be§t  camp-ground,  even  for  a  night  on  the  Plains, 
requires  a  judgment,  a  ""'coup  d'oeil,"  a  knowledge  of 
facts,  and  a  consideration  '  »f  possibilities  possessed  by 
comparatively  few  men.  A  thousand  questions  involv- 
ing the  comfor'  and  safety  of  the  party  must  be 
decided  in  a  few  moments,  and  as  it  were  by  instinct; 
and  that  the  Inc.  ans  so  invariably  select  the  camp 
best  adapted  to  their  wants,  on  that  particular  occa- 
sion, evidences  a  superior  order  of  intellect,  or  instinct. 
Every  party  must  not  only  take  into  consideration 
its  own  comfort,  and  that  of  its  stock,  but  all  the  dan- 
gers to  which  they  may  be  exposed,  either  from  human 
enemies  or  from  the  elements.  A  hunting-party 
chooses  other  ground  than  would  a  war  party,  and 
each  in  making  its  selection,  must  combine  its  objects 
and  intentions  with  all  the  surrounding  possibilities. 

The  Apache,  fearing  man  only,  sacrifices  every- 


vflS- 


m. 


'■"^I 


Jjf.i.:Mvi^si  v'.-V. 


-t^,  i.>;:\:.;.: 


iU-.v.iJl.  ■■'•^ 


•  ■w.^     "  f    «S     I 


240 


ARRAJSTGEMEXT   OF   CAMPS. 


i^  ?■' ' 


thing  to  that  fear,  and  locates  his  ranchcria  on  the 
apparently  inaccessible  summit  of  some  tall  cliflf, 
to  which  his  women  must  bring  the  scant  supply  of 
water,  by  paths  unknown  to  any  but  themselves. 

I  once  followed  a  predatory  party  of  Conianches 
for  moi'c  than  thirty  days,  and  the  camp  in  which  I 
finally  surprised  them  was  the  only  camp  made  by 
them  in  all  that  time  that  could  have  been  approached 
without  discovery. 

Except  in  winter,  the  situation  of  a  camp  indicates 
something  in  reference  to  its  occupants.  Thus  a  camp 
near  water,  but  away  from  nil  timber,  will  probably 
contain  Sioux,  who  have  a  mortal  di*ead  of  ambus- 
cade ;  a  camp  on  open  prairie,  but  near  timber,  would  be 
of  Che\cnnes  or  Arapahoes;  a  camp  i)rettily  situated 
among  open  timber,  Kiowas  or  Comanches;  while  a 
smolce  issuing  from  the  cover  of  a  dense  thicket,  would 
indicate  the  camp  of  Osages,  Omahas,  or  Shawnees. 

In  the  "  good  old  times,"  when  the  dog-soldiers 
ruled,  the  camps  were  arranged,  not  indeed  with  order, 
but  with  some  regard  to  convenience  and  the  proper- 
ties. The  council-lodge,  the  teejies  of  the  chiefs  and 
principal  men,  were  pitched  in  a  circle,  enclosing  a 
space  greater  or  less,  according  to  the  number  of 
lodges.  This  circle  was  the  public  square,  froni  which 
were  made  by  crier  all  announcements  of  oi'ders  and 
decisions  of  chiefs  and  council,  notices  of  movements, 
everything  of  public  interest  or  necessary'  to  be  known 
by  all.  This  was  the  loafing  and  lounging  i)lace,  the 
place  for  strutting  and  bragging,  for  gambling  or 
trading  horses,  for  war  and  ceremonial  dances. 

Iri'egularly  straggling  away  from  this  general  cen- 
tre, and  behind  the  teepe  of  each  chief,  wore  the  lodges 
of  his  followers,   some  good,  some  bad,  some   mere 


^v 


;  v; 


,V^^£;..i.:.v.^.^ 


,i.:,  ^..^...■, 


.  'f-L^.l.j.  ..\i.-.,teA„ 


CROWDED   AND   FILTHY. 


241 


I 


.  v: 


*"  wictky  ups  "  of  brush.  They  were  pitched  witli  refer- 
ence to  the  ground,  without  streets  or  order,  some 
ahnost  or  quite  touching,  others  some  distance  apart. 
The  women  of  each  lodge  selected  the  ground  on  which 
it  was  to  stand,  and  not  unfrequently  the  ownership  of 
a  s})ecially  good  place  was  decided  by  a  bout  at  hair- 
pulling.  The  men  never  interfered  with  any  of  these 
feminine  amusements,  but  sat  apart,  gravely  discussing 
the  affairs  of  the  tribe,  or  the  possibility  of  stealing 
some  horses,  or  may  be  talking  over  the  last  camp 
scandal,  until  theii*  wives  had  gotten  through  their 
quariels,  worry  and  turmoil,  and  had  their  lodges 
ready  for  tuem. 

At  the  present  time,  each  petty  chief  or  head  of  a 
few  lodges,  selects  his  ground  and  has  his  teepe 
pitched,  his  followers  pitching  around  him  without 
order,  and  seemingly  only  bent  on  crowding  him  and 
each  other.  With  unlimited  expanse  of  beautifnl 
ground  on  which  to  "locate,"  they  alaiost  invariably 
place  their  lodges  so  close  together,  that  nothing  can 
be  said  or  done  in  one  that  is  not  known  to  all  the  oc- 
cupants of  the  others. 

AVe  have  a  proverb  that  "  no  house  is  large  enough 
for  two  families."  The  Indians  have  not  only  two  or 
more  families  in  the  one  room,  but  they  so  jam  their 
lodges  together,  that  all  may  be  said  to  occupy  one 
house.  That  all  are  not  in  one  general  and  continu- 
ous row  argues  a  condition  of  feminine  temper  much 
higher,  or  lower,  than  that  accorded  to  civilization. 
As  there  are  no  yardsj  fences,  or  outhouses  of  any 
kind,  an  idea  may  be  formed  as  to  the  privacy,  de- 
cency, and  cleanliness  of  Indian  life. 

The  winter  camp  is  regarded  by  the  Indian  himself 
as  his  true  home.     The  excitement  of  war,  of  hunting, 


i ' 


4»       1 


I 


.■««L.iT    .     l;Jn!:^.- 


■J-^'t-'.i  ^t-     i:^i'*»; 


■;-«•!■»>.»;  ''c;r; 


%'^^'-\'"^-'-7^?"^-'^'' 


P^^S^ 


;,-yrf'i 


..-fr'.- 


;ci'"-''^Tv','i'.w-.'" 


242 


SELECTION  OF  WINTEK  CAMP. 


'i«r 


of  constant  movement,  is  over,  and  he  is  now  to  settle 
down  to  a  period  of  almost  complete  inaction. 
Experienced  warriors  have  been  sent  to  all  the  streams, 
most  loved  by  the  tribe,  and  to  make  a  thorough 
examination  of  all  the  ccimtry.  When  all  have 
returned  a  council  is  held.  The  reports  of  the  scouts 
are  heard,  and  they  arc  closely  questioned  as  to 
shelter,  wood,  water,  and  grass  or  cotton-wood  for 
the  ponies.  As  each  locality  has  its  champions,  the 
council  sometimes  debates  the  momentous  question 
for  days,  once  in  a  while,  even  sending  other  wari'iors 
to  examine  a  favorite  stream,  about  which,  however, 
there  is  now  a  difference  of  opinion. 

It  is  not  now  a  question  of  room  for  a  compact  camp, 
but  of  the  shelter  furnished  by  the  bluffs  on  each  side 
of  the  stream,  of  the  amount  of  timber  and  wooded 
thickets  along  its  valley,  of  the  sufficiency  of  grass 
or  cotton-wood  to  keep  the  ponies  alive. 

"When  the  stream  has  finally  been  selected,  all  go 
together.  There  is  now  no  sort  of  attempt  at  order. 
The  lodges  of  the  followers  of  a  chief  may  be  scattered 
for  miles,  each  taking  advantage  of  the  sheltered 
nooks,  formed  by  thickets  or  bluffs.  Here  a  single 
teepe  is  stuck  away  in  a  little  corner,  so  hidden  that 
one  might  pass  within  a  few  yards  without  seeing  it; 
there  two  or  three  find  room  and  shelter,  there  again 
bluffs,  and  thickets,  and  bend  of  stream  all  favoring, 
a  dozen  find  comfortable  lodgment.  The  great 
questions  with  each  Indian  are,  shelter,  convenience, 
and  feed  for  the  ponies,  and  these  questions  are  para- 
mount, though  the  desire  to  keep  as  near  to  each 
other  as  possible  is  apparent  through  all. 

According  therefore  to  the  nature  of  the  stream, 
its  bluffs  and  thickets,  and  level  valley,  will  a  winter 


o 
u 

3 

T3 


n 

3 
O. 
n 
D. 

o" 

3 

o 

I? 


3 


D. 
O 


g.   > 


u    -3 
p 

3 
3. 

O 
0 
3 


r^;j'^^-<ip"'''i''  '*?s,'s"'"^"'^ '■"'*■>■,•».  \-f  "':^^:-{i-'\^'f^-}\r/'-.^^^,rmKf:7J-i^^^^  ■■"-'. •'T?-",*^';' 


■.'«   ■>'-  "  ■^V'-" 


-:■<'!:'•;'■  ;:^i"'  7" '!."•'- 


A   COMPANY    OF   RUFFIANS. 

camp  be  compact  or  scattered.  One  winter  r 
of  one  hnndred  and  fifty  lodges  will  occupy  s 
mile,  another  winter  it  may  be  extended  four, 
even  six  miles  along  the  stream.  Son;ietimes  several 
friendly  tribes  occupy  the  same  stream,  making  an 
immense  camp. 

On  December  23, 1868,  Custer  attacked  one  end  of 
a  camp  of  Cheyennes,  Arrapahoes,  Kiowas,  and 
Comanches,  which  extended  for  more  than  twenty 
miles  along  the  Washita  River.  It  contained  not  less 
than  two  thousand  warriors,  and  he  was  exceedingly 
fortunate  in  not  then  meeting  the  fate  which  after- 
wards overtook  him  on  the  Little  Big  Horn. 

Some  years  after  the  Mexican  war,  about  fifty 
American  desperadoes,  went  to  Chihuahua,  and  hired 
themselves  to  the  governor  of  that  Mexican  state,  to 
clear  the  country  of  the  Apaches,  who  were  devastat- 
ing it.  They  organized  themselves  into  a  company 
under  the  leadership  of  John  Glanton,  one  of  the  most 
notoriously  cold-blooded  rufliians  that  ever  lived,  and 
in  a  very  short  time  became  such  a  terror  to  the 
Indians,  that  they  left  the  state  entirely.  As  the 
company  was  paid  "  by  the  scalp,"  this  state  of  things 
was  not  at  all  to  its  taste,  and  inquiries  for  Indians 
were  pushed  in  all  directions. 

The  captain  finally  discovered  that  an  immense 
Apache  winter  camp  was  stretched  along  on  the 
American  side  of  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Rio  Grande. 
He  attacked  one  end  of  this  camp  at  daylight  one  morn- 
ing, and  so  scattered  were  the  Indians  and  so  difficult 
the  ground,  that  his  command  took  (it  was  said)  over 
two  hundred  and  fifty  scalps,  of  men,  women,  and 
children,  before  the  Indians  cohld  concentrate  in 
sufficient  force  to  make  it  prudent  for  him  to  retire. 

16 


.  '^ 

'  1     :i 

47 

the 

that 

/   ^  '^ 

and 

'''% 

! 


'.• 


;  i>' 


'i':  --.  "i  '4.M!ti3fci.'*.i*^-%"*.:.i,  -jL-Xit. 


w 


\ 


\ 


'^ 


6 


A  HAPPY   TIME. 


Indians  at  peace,  and  with  food  in  jilenty,  the 
1"  camp  is  the  scene  of  constant  enjoyment. 
X.,  ,T  the  varying  excitements,  the  successes  and 
vicissitudes,  the  constant  labors  of  many  months,  the 
prospect  of  the  winter's  peace  and  rest,  with  its  home 
life  and  home  pleasures,  comes  like  a  soothing  balm 
to  all. 

To  those  of  the  warriors  who  have  passed  the  age  of 
passionate  excitements,  (who  have  reached  the  "  whist- 
age"  of  their  English  sj^eaking  contci  ^)oraries), 
this  season  brings  the  full  enjoyment  of  those 
pleasures  and  excitements  yet  left  to  them  in  life. 
Their  days  are  spent  in  gambling,  their  long  winter 
evenings  in  endless  repetitions  of  stories  of  their 
wonderful  performances  in  days  gone  by,  and  their 
nights  in  the  sound  sweet  sleep  vouchsafed  only  to 
easy  consciences. 

The  old  women  also  have  a  good  time.  'No  more 
taking  down  and  putting  up  the  teepe,  no  more 
packing  and  unpacking  the  ponies.  To  bring  the 
wood  and  water,  do  the  little  cooking,  to  attend  to  the 
ponies,  and  possibly  to  dress  a  f<iw  skins,  is  all  the 
labor  devolved  on  them. 

To  the  young  of  both  sexes,  whether  married  or 
single,  this  season  brings  unending  excitement  and 
pleasure.  Now  is  the  tune  for  dances  and  feasts,  for 
visits  and  frolics,  and  merry-makings  of  all  kinds,  and 
for  this  time,  the  "story-teller"  has  prepared  and 
rehearsed  his  most  marvellous  recitals.  Above  all,  it  is 
the  season  for  love-making.  "  Love  rules  the  camp," 
and  now  is  woman's  opportunity. 

Without  literature,  without  music  or  painting  as 
arts,  without  further  study  of  nature  than  is  necessary 
for  the  safety  or  the  needs  of  their  daily  life,  with  no 


i,5 

5- 


'JM  ■tyiW,\'^ji*uL'ls'^MSS'ilix-MA-.^^^^^  5f.w/;vu'';!ji>«\jiii-.v..^,. •«-_■■ 


') 


READY   FOR  FUN. 


247 


't'MJ^pl 


knowledge  or  care  for  politics  or  finance,  or  the 
thousand  questions  of  social  or  other  science,  that 
disturb  and  perplex  the  minds  of  civilized  people,  and 
with  reasoning  faculties  little  superior  to  instinct, 
there  is  among  Indians  no  such  thing  as  conversation 
as  we  understand  it.  There  is  plenty  of  talk  but  no 
interchange  of  ideas,  no  expression  and  comparison 
of  views  and  beliefs,  except  on  the  most  commonplace 
topics.  Half  a  dozen  old  sages  will  be  sitting  around, 
quietly  and  gravely  passing  the  pipe,  and  apparently 
engaged  in  important  discussion.  Nine  times  out  of 
ten,  their  talk  is  the  merest  camp  tattle,  or  about  a 
stray  horse,  or  sick  colt,,  or  where  one  killed  a  deer, 
or  another  saw  a  buffalo  track.  All  serious  questions 
arc  reserved  for  discussion  in  the  council  lodge,  and 
the  ordinary  mental  activity  of  the  Indian  may  be 
estimated  at  zero. 

During  the  pleasant  months,  he  has  constantly  the 
healthy  stimulus  of  active  life;  during  the  winter  he  is 
either  in  a  state  of  lethargy,  or  of  undue  excitement. 
During  the  day,  in  the  winter  season,  the  men  gamble 
or  sleep,  the  women  work  or  idle  as  suits  each,  but 
the  moment  it  gets  dark,  everybody  is  on  the  "  qui- 
vive,"  ready  for  any  fun  that  presents  itself.  A  few 
beats  on  a  tom-tom  bring  all  the  inmates  of  the 
neighboring  lodges,  a  dance  or  gambling  bout  is  soon 
inaugurated,  and  oftentimes  kept  up  imtil  nearly 
morning. 

The  insufficiency  and  uncertainty  of  human  happi- 
ness has  been  the  theme  of  eloquent  writers  of  all 
ages.  I  have  a  theory  that  every  man's  happiness  is 
lodged  in  his  own  nature,  and  is,  to  a  certain  extent 
at  least,  independent  of  his  external  circumstances  and 
surroundings.     These  primitive  people  demonstrate 


.'M 


•  ■'''"■'•-■I 


ll 


.•srf:i.:.i;^;,>i«&!..y. 


">S» '•!'>:  t^.: 


.ifeA.iLk'»-!k-:-  ; 


l.fif^'i'.-tLj: 


Jl.:._,.  >.>»;'  I'lt'--'*^   V.*;^-:  4  A'*  ^^^'^-'- 


yw 


,„•-,;, 


"^'m;^"  t''V**'/''v  .V'V^-'""'^'  '^"7  "■^*  ''7,*■v^'; 


•-;:h^- 


"i  "'\''-''-W^.'' 


248 


DOMESTIC   FELICITY. 


'^\: 


%m' 


!  X  ' 


>  v..         -.r 


the  general  correctness  of  this  theory,  for  they  are 
habitiuilly  and  universally  the  happiest  people  I  ever 
saw.  They  thoroughly  enjoy  the  present,  make  no 
worry  over  the  i)ossibilities  of  the  future,  and  "  never 
cry  over  spilt  milk."  It  may  be  argued  that  their 
apparent  happiness  is  only  insensibility,  the  happiness 
of  the  mere  animal,  whose  animal  desires  are  satisfied. 
It  may  be  so.  I  simply  state  facts,  others  may 
draw  conclusions.  The  Indian  is  proud,  sensitive, 
quick-tempered,  easily  wounded,  easily  excited,  but 
though  utterly  unforgiving,  he  never  broods.  This 
in  my  opinion,  is  the  whole  secret  of  his  happiness. 

In  spite  of  that  "  dreadful  institution "  polygamy, 
and  the  fact  that  the  wives  are  mere  property,  the  do- 
mestic life  of  the  Indian  will  bear  comparison  with 
that  of  average  civilized  communities.  The  husband 
as  a  rule,  is  kind;  ruling,  but  with  no  harshness.  The 
wives  are  generally  faithful,  obedient,  and  industrious. 
The  children  are  spoiled,  and  a  nuisance  to  all  red 
visitors.  Fortunately,  the  white  man,  the  "  bug-a- 
boo "  of  their  baby  days,  is  yet  such  an  object  of 
terror  as  to  keep  them  at  a  respectful  distance.  Among 
themselves,  the  members  of  the  family  are  perfectly 
easy  and  unrestrained.  It  is  extremely  rare  that  there 
is  any  quarrelling  among  the  wives. 

There  is  no  such  thing  as  nervousness  in  either  sex. 
Living  in  but  the  one  room,  they  are  from  babyhood 
accustomed  to  what  would  be  unbearable  annoyance 
to  whites.  The  head  of  the  lodge  comes  back  tired 
from  a  hunt,  throws  himself  down  on  a  bed,  and  goes 
fast  to  sleep,  though  his  two  or  three  wives  chatter 
around  and  his  children  tumble  all  over  him.  Every- 
body in  the  lodge  seems  to  do  just  as  he  or  she  pleases, 
and  this  seems  no  annoyance  to  anybody  else. 


,1 

I 


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-!^fe.i.,_.. 


it 


'4    ' 


WM" 


"4.    i."'i»» ->-•,-*■'*••.  ■ 


.....    ...    V... 


A  BIBTH  IN  THE  FAMILY. 


249 


Unlike  her  civilized  sister,  the  Indian  woman,  "  in 
her  hour  of  greatest  need,"  does  not  need  any  one. 
She  would  be  shocked  at  the  idea  of  having  a  man 
doctor.  Parturition  is  a  matter  of  no  concern  or 
trouble  with  her.  In  pleasant  weather,  the  expectant 
mother  betakes  herself  to  the  seclusion  of  some 
thicket;  in  winter  she  goes  to  a  teepe  provided  in 
each  band  for  the  women.  In  a  few  hours  she  returns 
with  the  baby  in  its  cradle  on  her  back,  and  goes  about 
her  usual  duties  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

They  never  wean  their  children,  but  continue  to 
nurse  as  long  as  the  child  wishes,  or  until  another 
comes. 


\i\ 


M 


^•5 


f-J- 


:;«!i'.^,v»vn''^^-,^;'j^W»i<i3^v';i^^!ii;«|t-jiv-'-5r!»:.. •:'/'';  'VTf'''^->{f^:f:di^  :■':"','.''.■•' ri,.'-'.'' 


r 


'•«r 


I 


p.  A; 


■>. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

INDIAN    SKILL   AND  HANDIWORK  —  OCCUPATIONS    OF 

CAMP   AND   LODGE. 

In  Winter  Quarters —  "reparations  for  War  and  the  Chase  —  How 
Indian  Saddles  and  Bridles  are  made  —  The  Mexican  Device  — 
Fancy  Reins  —  The  Art  of  Plaiting  Horsehair  —  The  Lariat  and  the 
Lasso  —  How  They  arc  Made— A  Winter's  Task  —  Tlie  Great  Fall 
Hun*  —  Scenes  of  Joy  and  Excitement  —  Preserved  Buffalo  —  Real 
Indian  Bread  —  Skill  in  Dressing  Skins  —  Family  Heirlooms  —  The 
Elkliorn  Handle  —  A  Priceless  Treasm'o  —  A  Suit  of  Deer-skin  — 
Original  Needlework  —  Spending  a  Year  on  a  Single  Garment  — 
Bead  Work  — Beautiful  Ornamentation  —  Behind  the  Plough  —  The 
Indian  Maiden  of  Fiction  —  Wrestling  with  the  Sportive  Hoe  —  A 
Square  Day's  Work  —  The  Chopping  Match  —  Startling  Facts. 

ROM  the  account  I  have  given  of  theii 
home  liffv  some  idea  may  be  formed  of 
the  ordinary  occupations  of  Indians  in 
their  natural  condition. 

Preparations  for  war  or  the  chase  oc- 
cupy such  hours  of  the  winter  encamp- 
ment as  tne  noble  red  man  can  spare  from 
gambling,  love-making  and  personal  adorn- 
ment. 

Each  Indian  must  make  \-  r  himself  everything 
which  he  cannot  procure  by  iji.rter,  and  the  oppor- 
tunities for  barter  of  the  more  common  necessities  are 
very  few,  the  Indians  not  having  even  yet  conceived 
the  idea  of  making  any  articles  for  sale  among  them- 
selves. 

250 


■     : 


I 


1,  &  JSt,  X  ■  i\i. 


^ ^]&.M»i^ 


,-iJltL,      '^1.; 


p^^pp^^ 


wm^mmmmmmsmm 


I 


•wp 


ARTISTIC   WORK. 


251 


The  baddle  requires  much  time  and  care  iu  its  con- 
fitruction.  Some  Indians  can  never  learn  to  make 
one,  conseq 'ently  this  is  more  an  article  of  barter 
than  anything  commonly  made  by  Indians. 

No  single  article  varies  so  much  in  make  and  value 
a"^  the  bridle.  The  bit  is  always  purchased,  and  is  of 
every  pattern,  from  the  plain  snaffle  to  the  compli- 
cated and  cruel  contrivance  of  the  Mexicans.  The 
bridle  of  one  Indian  may  be  a  mere  head-stall  of  raw- 
hide attached  to  the  bit,  but  without  frontlet  or 
throat-latch,  and  with  reins  of  the  same  material,  the 
whole  not  worth  a  dollar;  that  of  another  may  be  so 
elaborated  l)y  patient  labor,  and  so  garnished  with 
silver,  as  to  l)e  worth  a  hundred  dollars. 

The  Southern  Indians  have  learned  fi'om  the  Mexi- 
cans the  art  of  plaiting  horsehair,  and  much  of  their 
work  is  vcjy  artistic  and  beautiful,  besides  being  won- 
derfully serviceable.  A  small  smooth  stick  of  one- 
fourth  of  an  inch  in  diameter  is  the  mould  over  which 
the  hair  is  plaited.  When  finished,  the  stick  is  with- 
drawn. The  hair  used  is  previously  d3X'd  of  different 
colors,  and  it  is  so  woven  as  to  present  pretty  patterns. 
This  hair,  not  Ijeing  very  strong,  is  used  for  the  head- 
stall; the  reins,  which  require  strength,  are  plaited 
solid,  but  in  the  same  pattern,  showing  both  skill, 
taste  and  fitness. 

The  name  "  lariat "  (Spanish,  riata,)  is  applied  by 
all  frontiei'smen  and  Indians  to  the  rope  or  cord  used 
for  picketing  or  fastening  their  horses  while  grazing, 
and  also  to  the  thong  used  for  catching  wild  animals 
—  the  lasso.  They  are  the  same,  with  a  very  great 
difference.  The  lasso  may  be  used  for  picketing  a 
horse,  but  the  rope  with  which  a  horse  is  ordinarily 
picketed  would  never  be  of  use  as  a  lasso. 


* 

N 


). 


■  ■  t\,"  J.  .^'}'l.:.^l''>,W.'-!.«i^i-'<  /v 


,..r^.?#£-y,U'*l 


^V~%^^iK^"^^^pf'^ 


B 


f! 


( 

-•it 


VSK^' 


x:."^.:- .  .> , 


252 


THE   NATURAL    CLUB   MAN^. 


A  good  riata  ("lasso")  re';,inrcs  a  great  deal  of 
labor  and  patient  care.  It  is  sometimes  made  of 
plaited  hair  from  the  m  es  and  tails  of  horses,  but 
these  are  not  common,  except  where  wild  horses  are 
plenty,  one  such  riata  requiring'  the  hair  of  not  less 
than  twenty  horses.  It  is  generally  made  of  the  raw 
hide  of  buffalo  or  domestic  cattle,  freed  from  hair,  cut 
into  narrow  sti''ps,  and  plaited  with  infinite  patience 
and  care,  so  as  to  be  perfectly  round  and  smooth. 
Such  a  "riata,"  though  costing  less  money  than  that 
of  hair,  is  iniinitely  superior.  It  is  smooth,  round, 
heavy,  runs  easily  and  quickly  to  noose,  and  is  as 
strong  as  a  cable.  Those  tribes,  as  the  Utcs,  who 
are  unable  to  procure  beef  or  buffalo  sldns,  make 
beautiful  lariats  of  thin  strips  of  buckskin  plaited  to- 
gether; but  as  these  are  used  only  lor  securing  their 
horses  they  are  usually  plaited  flat. 

To  make  these  articles  is  all  that  tl)o  male  Indian 
"  finds  to  do  "  in  his  ordinary  winter  life.  Without 
occupation,  without  literature,  without  thought,  how 
he  can  persuade  himself  to  continue  to  exist  can  be 
explained  only  on  the  hypothesis  that  he  is  a  natural 
"club  man,"  or  a  mere  animal. 

"  From  rosy  morn  to  dewy  eve "  there  is  always 
wo/k  for  the  Indian  woman.  Fortunately  for  her, 
the  "aboriginal  inhabitants"  have  as  yet  discovered 
no  means  of  making  a  light  sufficient  to  work  b}^  at 
night.  It  is  true,  they  beg  or  buy  a  few  candles  from 
militaiy  posts,  or  traders,  but  these  are  sacredly 
preserved  for  dances  and  grand  occasions. 

But  slave  as  she  is,  I  doubt  if  she  could  be  forced 
to  WfM'k  aftr-r  dark,  even  if  she  had  light.  Custom, 
which  holds  her  in  so  many  inexorable  bonds,  comes 
to  her  aid  in  this  case.     In  every  tribe,  night  is  th{3 


1 


I 


zi-.  •,.■ 


.C.J.i;*i 


^JSx'^L 


,.  ri--^^-;,    -.-     .-     -ti  - 


I 


woman's  work. 


253 


^v^mans  rig 


lit,  and  no  matter  how  urgent  the  work 
which  occiij)ies  her  during  daylight,  the  moment  that 
dark  comes,  she  bedecks  herself  in  her  best  finery, 
and  stands  at  the  door  of  the  lodge,  her  ear  strained 
for  the  first  beat  of  the  tom-tom,  which  summons  her 
to  where  she  is  for  the  nonce  queen  and  ruler. 

There  was  formerly  one  exception  to  this  immunity 
from  night  work,  but  it  has  gone  with  the  buffalo. 
At  the  time  of  the  "  great  fall  hunt,"  there  was  no 
rest  nor  excuse  for  her.  She  must  work  at  any  and 
all  hours.  If  the  herd^.  were  moving,  the  success  of 
the  hunt  might  depend  on  the  rapidity  witli  which  the 
women  performed  their  work  on  a  batch  6f  dead 
buiValo.  These  animals  spoil  very  quickly  if  not 
disembowelled,  and  though  the  hunters  tried  to 
regulate  the  daily  kill  by  the  ability  of  the  squaws  to 
"  clean  up  "  after  them,  they  could  not,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  always  do  so. 

"When  the  buffalo  was  dead  the  man's  work  was 
done.  It  Avas  woman's  work  to  skin  and  cut  up  the 
dead  animal;  and  oftentimes  when  the  men  were 
cxcepiionally  fortunate,  the  women  were  obliged  to 
work  hard  and  fast,  all  night  long  before  their  task 
was  finished. 

The  meat,  cut  as  closely  as  possible  from  the  bones, 
is  tied  up  in  the  skin,  and  })acked  to  camp  on  the 
loonies.  The  entrails,  emptied  of  their  contents,  form 
the  piinciiial  food  of  all  during  Ihe  hunt,  not  only 
being  the  most  delicious  morsel,  but  not  requiiing  a 
waste  of  time  in  cooking. 

The  skins  are  spread,  flesh-side  upward,  on  a  level 
piece  of  ground,  small  slits  are  cut  in  the  edges  of 
each  skin,  and  it  is  tightly  stretched  and  fastened 
down  by  wooden  pegs  driven  through  the  slits  into 


"^*" 


.r,t,*i:j.?ii- 


254 


PARFLECHE. 


r 


k: 


the  ground.  The  meat  is  cut  into  thin  flakes  and 
placed  on  poles  or  scaffolds  to  dry  in  the  sun. 

All  this  work  must  be  done,  as  it  were,  instantly, 
for  if  the  skin  is  allowed  to  dry  unstretched,  it  can 
never  be  made  of  use  as  a  robe,  and  the  meat  spoils  if 
not  "jerked  "  within  a  few  hours. 

This  lively  work  lasts  but  a  few  weeks,  and  is 
looked  upon  by  the  workers  themselves  pretty  much 
in  the  same  way  as  notable  civilized  housewives  look 
upon  the  yearly  housecleaning,  very  disagreeable,  but 
very  enjoyable.  The  real  work  begins  when,  the 
hunt  being  over,  the  band  has  gone  into  its  winter 
quarters,  for  then  must  the  women  prepai'e  and  utilize 
"  the  crop." 

Some  of  the  thickest  bull's  hides  are  placed  to  soak 
in  water,  in  which  is  mixed  wood  ashes,  or  some 
natural  alkali.  This  takes  the  hair  off.*  The  skin  is 
then  cut  into  the  required  shape,  and  stretched  on  a 
form,  on  which  it  is  allowed  to  dry,  when  it  not  only 
retains  its  shape,  but  becomes  almost  as  hard  as  iron. 
These  boxes  are  of  various  shapes  and  sizes,  some 
made  like  huge  pocket-books,  others  like  trunks.  All 
are  called  "  parfleche,"  though  why,  I  have  never  been 
able  to  get  a  satisfactory  explanation. 

As  soon  as  these  parfleches  or  trunks  are  ready 
for  use,  the  now  thoroughly  dry  meat  is  pounded  to 
powder  between  two  stones.  About  two  inches  of 
this  powdered  meat  is  ])laced  in  the  bottom  of  a  par- 
fleche, and  melted  tallow  is  poured  over  it.  Then 
another  layer  of  meat  is  served  in  the  same  way,  and 
so  until  the  trunk  is  full.     It  is  kept  hot  until  the 

*  Amonjr  almost  nil  tlio  Plfiins  tribes,  tlic  common  n.'vme  for  a  skin  so 
prepared  is  •' piirllccho,"  and  almoat  everything  made  of  it  is  also 
"parlleclie." 


T 


'-&. 


\tl*  «llft1iMHUi«MrlV#^«MVi«1tkA«^^««iF*-i«jML»*'W«ir'kiHirid 


INDIAN   BREAD. 


^^^^^^^^ 


255 


whole  mass  is  thoronghl^'^  saturated.  "When  cold,  the 
parfleches  are  closed  and  tightly  tied  up.  The  eon- 
tents,  so  prepared,  will  keep  in  good  condition  for 
several  years.  Probably  the  best  feature  of  the  pro- 
cess is  that  nothing  is  lost,  the  flesh  of  old  and  tough 
animals  being,  after  this  treatment,  so  nearly  as  good 
as  that  of  young  that  few  persons  can  tell  the  differ- 
ence. I  might  reverse  the  statement  and  say  that  all 
meat  is  so  utterly  spoiled  by  the  process  that  there  is 
no  longer  room  foi-  comparatives,  good  or  bad.  This 
is  the  true  Indian  bread,  and  is  used  as  bread  when 
they  have  fresh  meat.  Boiled,  it  makes  a  soup  not 
very  palatable  but  nutritious.  So  long  as  the  Indian 
has  this  dried  meat  he  is  entirely  independent  of  all 
other  food.  Of  late  years,  all  the  beef  issued  to  the 
Indians  on  reservations,  and  not  needed  for  immedi- 
ate consumption,  is  treated  in  this  way. 

The  dressing  of  skins  is  the  next  work.  The 
thickest  hides  are  put  in  soak  of  alkali,  for  materials 
for  making  shields,  saddles,  riatas,  etc.  Hides  for 
making  or  repairing  lodges  are  treated  in  the  same 
way,  but,  after  the  hair  has  been  removed,  they  are 
reduced  in  thickness,  made  pliable,  and  most  fre- 
quently smoked. 

Deer,  antelope,  and  other  thin  skins  are  beautifully 
prepai'ed  for  clothing,  the  hair  being  always  removed. 
Some  of  these  skins  are  so  worked  down  that  they 
are  almost  as  thin  and  white  as  cotton  cloth. 

But  the  crowning  process  is  the  preparation  of  a 
buflalo  robe.  The  skin  of  even  the  youngest  and  fat- 
test cow  is  in  its  natural  condition  much  too  thick  for 
use,  being  unwieldy  and  lacking  pliability.  This 
thickness  must  be  reduced  at  least  one-half,  and  the 
skin  at  the  same  time  made  soft  and  pliable.     When 


If  ■ 


m 


■■>?r\t 


H. ' 


■'Ti'l  T*'^-?  .;■■'. i;!»ij-«^   i'  ■..'X-,;'^-:\ier{'':\-i^<.-i]\i'f»,-;'W'~ 


■  .■.V>     yi  7-f<t   Li  \r.-iir^rwf,irf.'  "  ■™.-.: ' 


256 


MAKING  A  ROBE. 


the  stretched  sldn  has  become  dry  and  hard  from  the 
action  of  the  sun,  the  woman  goes  to  work  upon  it 
with  a  small  implement,  shaped  somewhat  like  a  car- 
penter's adze.  It  has  a  short  handle  of  wood  or  elk- 
horn,  tied  on  with  rawhide,  and  is  used  with  one  hand. 
These  tools  are  heirlooms  in  families,  and  greatly 
pi'izcd.  It  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  obtain  one,  es- 
pecially one  with  an  elk-horn  handle,  the  Indians 
valuing  them  above  price.  With  this  tool  the  woman 
chips  at  the  hardened  skin,  cutting  off  a  thin  shaving 
at  every  blow.  The  skill  in  the  whole  process  con- 
sists in  so  directing  and  tempering  the  blows  as  to  cut 
the  skin,  yet  not  cut  too  deep,  and  in  finally  ol)taining 
a  uniform  thickness  and  perfectly  smooth  and  even 
inner  surface.  To  render  the  skin  soft  and  ])liable, 
the  chipping  is  stopped  every  little  while,  and  the 
chipped  surface  smeared  with  brains  of  buffalo,  which 
are  thoroughly  rubbed  in  with  a  smooth  stone. 

When  very  great  care  and  delicacy  are  required, 
the  skin  is  stretched  vertically  on  a  frame  of  poles. 
It  is  claimed  that  the  chipping  process  can  be  much 
more  perfectly  performed  on  a  skin  stretched  in  this 
way  than  on  one  stretched  on  the  uneven  and  unyield- 
ing ground,  but  the  latter  is  used  for  all  connnon 
robes,  because  it  is  the  easiest. 

"When  the  thinning  and  softening  process  is  com- 
pleted, the  robe  is  taken  out  of  its  frame,  trimmed, 
and  sometimes  smoked.  It  is  now  I'cady  for  use.  It 
is  a  long  and  tedious  process,  and  no  one  but  an  In- 
dian would  go  through  it. 

But  all  this,  though  harder  work,  is  the  mere  com- 
mencement of  the  long  and  patient  lalior  which  the 
loving  wife  bestows  on  the  robe  which  the  husband  is 
to  use  on  dress  occasions.     The  whole  inner  surface 


*/.ji*i^=^'  ■  J .i\^A^-^\'^^^ . - 


^'sfeid:^. 


■Ti  «*'.      f-.'^-tffy. 


S  ^'"T  "'■■' *  ,■  (■  ,' 


from  the 
upon  it 
KQ  a  car- 
d  or  elk- 
)nG  hand, 
greatly 
one,  es- 
Iiulians 
Avoman 
shavins: 
!ess  con- 
as  to  cut 
btaininir 
nd  even 
J)liable, 
and  the 
3,  wliich 

-'  • 

equired, 
f  poles. 
)e  much 
in  this 
inyield- 
onnnon 

s  com- 
immed, 
se.  It 
an  In- 

3  com- 
:-h  the 
and  is 
Liifuce 


■?i;*'-!iii.:\. 


S      <i 


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ill 


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'  Hi.iwur-HK     ttJif*- 


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■'•■'■.     /■-     I    .  ,:..  -111.;;)!'- 

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PLATE 


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PH^,-,:,r_,R/^,.MtD    iNl!    fAINTFD    FROm'  THf"  ORIGINAl' OBjrCTi-    EXPRESSLY   fQf    THIS   WORK 


V   '   : 


*^-j7'i*T»ir»tfl^>'!vtj(/-;!^^.'5V-'"-"*'^''^"'i"^-"'^';''p'"^  -■"■     "y^'-T^'' 


§■■ 


i 


-^jm^tss^^Mi^i^amm 


ORNAMENTATION. 


257 


*is  frequently  covered  with  designs  beautifully  worked 
with  porcupine  quills,  or  grasses  dyed  in  various 
colors.  Sometimes  the  embellishments  are  paintings. 
I  have  seen  many  elegant  robes  that  must  have  taken 
a  year  to  finish. 

Every  animal  brought  into  the  camp  brings  work 
for  the  squaw.  The  buck  comes  in  with  a  deer  and 
drops  it  at  the  door.  The  squaw  skins  it,  cuts  up 
and  preserves  the  meat,  dresses  the  skin  and  fasliions 
it  into  garments  for  some  member  of  the  family.  Un- 
til within  a  very  few  years  the  needle  was  a  piece  of 
sharpened  bone,  the  thread  a  fibre  of  sinew.  These 
are  yet  used  in  the  ornamentation  of  robes,  but 
almost  all  the  ordinary  sewing  i^.  done  with  civilized 
appliances. 

All  Indians  are  excessively  fond  of  bead-work,  and 
not  only  the  clothing,  moccasins,  gun-covers,  quivers, 
knife-sheaths  and  tobacco  pouches,  but  every  little 
bag  or  ornament  is  covered  with  this  work.  Many 
of  the  designs  are  pretty  and  artistic.  In  stringing 
the  beads  for  this  work  an  ordinary  needle  is  used, 
but  in  every  case,  except  for  articles  made  for  sale,  the 
thread  used  is  sinew.* 

Only  a  few  years  ago  the  foregoing  description  of 
the  ordinary  employments  of  Indians  was  true  to  the 
letter,  for  almost  every  tribe  west  of  the  Missouri  and 
east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  It  is  yet  true  for  most 
of  them,  but  some  few  have  taken,  within  these  few 
years,  long  steps  on  the  "  white  man's  road,"  and  the 

*  A  few  yeai's  ago  the  Indian  Bureau,  with  its  usual  sagacity,  pro- 
hibited the  sale  of  beads  to  the  Indians  by  the  traders  at  one  or  more  of 
the  iigoncies.  The  Indians  were  furious,  claiming  the  right  to  spend 
their  own  money  in  bedecking  themselves  in  their  own  way. 

This  apparently  little  point  might  have  cost  much  money  and  mai^ 
lives  if  the  Bureau  had  not  prudently  "  backed  down." 


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258 


WARRIOR  AND   MAIDEJT. 


^ 


occupations  of  both  men  and  women  of  those  tribes ' 
will  not  conform  to  my  description. 

The  life  in  the  winter  encampment  has  scarcely 
been  changed  in  any  particular,  but  with  the  earliest 
spring  come  evidences  of  activity,  a  desire  to  get 
away,  not  attributable,  as  in  the  "  good  old  time,"  to 
plans  of  forays  for  scalps  and  plunder,  but  to  the 
desire  of  each  head  of  a  lodge  or  band  to  reach  before 
any  one  else  does,  the  particular  spot  on  which  he  has 
fixed  for  his  location  for  the  summer.  No  sooner  has 
he  reached  it  than  all  hands,  men,  women  and 
children,  fall  to  work  as  if  the  whole  thing  were  a 
delightful  frolic.  Fences  are  made,  ground  broken 
up  and  seed  planted ;  and  all  summer  long  many  of  the 
noble  Red  Men,  with  wives  and  children,  may  be 
found  working  in  the  fields  nearly  naked,  sweaty, 
dirty,  and  unromantic. 

The  peerless  warrior  with  "eye  like  the  eagle," 
whose  name  a  few  short  years  ago  was  a  terror,  and 
whose  swoop  destruction,  may  be  found  patiently 
plodding  between  the  handles  of  a  plough.  The  tender 
maiden, — wont  in  fiction  to  sacrifice  herself  to  save  her 
lover,  or,  reduced  to  despair,  to  fling  herself  from 
"  tallest  cliflf  into  the  raging  flood  beneath," — may  now 
be  seen  following  the  plough  of  the  father,  nimbly 
plying  the  sportive  hoe,  intent  only  on  getting  through 
with  a  square  day's  work,  and  thinking  fondly  of  the 
square  meal  that  is  to  follow  it;  or  when  the  crop  is 
laid  by,  challenging  that  farther  to  a  fi'icndly  contest 
in  a  wood-chopping  match,  in  v/hich,  nine  times  out 
of  ten,  she  beats  him  shamefully. 

I  consider  myself  a  friend  of  the  Indian,  and  as 
such,  have  some  natural  hesitation  in  divulging  the 
secret  of  his  present  pursuits.    Most  of  his  civilized 


,.i: 


- 


i 


,.i7-K^i>^::...-^'.— ^' 


f  ^   ^  ^' -"I""  V?f  ■ 


KOMANCE   AND    TiExlLITY. 


259 


■'  f#l 


friends  love  bim  for  his  high  crimes,  liis  magnificent 
misdemeanors,  his  brilHant  felonies.  When  they 
contrast  the  pictures  drawn  by  Catlin,  Cooper  and 
others,  of  the  daring  and  chivalrous  warriors,  beau- 
teous and  loving  maidens  —  peers  and  counterparts  of 
knights  and  mistresses  whose  deeds  and  loves  gloss 
with  romance  all  mediaeval  literature — with  these  here 
presented;  what  he  is,  in  their  minds,  with  what  he  is 
in  reality,  I  fear  they  will  turn  from  him  with  loathing 
and  disgust.  With  sentimentalists,  brilliant  crime 
always  commands  admiration,  squalid  labor  deserves 
only  contempt. 

The  last  five  years,  more  than  any  twenty  preceding 
them,  have  convinced  the  wild  Indians  of  the  utter 
futility  of  their  warfare  against  the  United  States 
Government.  One  and  all,  they  are  thoroughly 
whipped;  and  their  conte^its  in  the  future  will  be  the 
acts  of  predatory  parties  (for  which  the  Indians  at 
huge  are  no  more  responsible  than  is  the  Government 
of  the  United  States  for  the  acts  of  highwaymen  in 
the  Black  Hills,  or  train-robbers  in  Missouri),  or  a 
deliberate  determination  of  the  bands  and  tribes  to 
die  fighting  rather  than  by  the  slow  torture  of  starva- 
tion to  which  the  government  condemns  them. 

The  buffalo  is  gone,  so  also  nearly  all  the  other 
large  game  on  which  the  Indians  depended  for  food. 
They  are  confined  to  comparatively  restricted  reserva- 
tions, and  completely  surrounded  by  whites.  They 
are  more  perfectly  aware  of  the  stringency  of  their 
situation  than  any  white  man  can  possibly  be,  for 
they  daily  feel  its  pressure. 

With  no  chance  of  success  in  war,  with  no  possi- 
bility of  providing  food  for  themselves,  with  no 
adequate  assistance  from  government,  they  thoroughly 


\;i 


"'/''ii'»>««r>;'^*  iV(.^ 


260 


THE   CURSE   ON  ADAld. 


1.  f'S 


m' 


comprehend  that  their  only  hope  for  the  future  is  in 
work,  or  as  they  express  it,  "  in  the  white  man's  road." 

Tliey  do  not  hke  it  of  course;  it  would  be  unnatural 
if  they  did.  They  aeceiDt  it  as  the  dire  alternative 
against  starvation. 

Does  any  one  labor  for  the  sake  of  labor?  A  man 
who  spaded  up  a  field  simply  to  give  himself  labor 
would  be  considered  a  fit  subject  for  the  lunatic 
asylum. 

Labor  is  the  curse  on  Adam,  and,  however  necessary 
and  ennobling,  is  not  an  end  but  a  means.  We 
labor  for  money,  for  ambition,  for  health,  for  anything 
except  for  labor  itself. 

Basing  arguments  on  the  Indian  contempt  for 
work,  many  men  in  and  out  of  Congress  lalk  eloquent 
nonsense  of  t-ie  impossibility  of  ever  bringing  him  to 
agricultural  pursuits.  The  average  Indian  has  no 
more  hatred  of  labor,  as  such,  than  the  average  white 
man.  Neither  will  labor  unless  an  object  is  to  be 
attained.  Both  will  labor  rather  than  starve.  Here- 
tofore the  Indian  could  comfortably  support  himself 
in  his  usual  and  preferred  life,  without  labor;  and 
there  being  no  other  incentive,  he  would,  in  my 
opinion,  have  only  proved  himself  an  idiot,  had  he 
worked  without  an  object. 


''4 


^ 


l*r 


■.4.J.''.-'..''4..i:i'^-'»ft  y.._.,  -.'-  -."-  :?f  .=.;:,'■  A"'      ™-'V.„'  >^.,>-  ..\- 'k.'-\>i: '...■>.%:*■' \-i-i^  J-.^ti     'I'.'lWj-V--'  «_'i   v...  ".-.J.  a4' 


i'Tr' 


CHAPTER  XX. 


TRADE  AKD  BARTER  —  THE  VICTIMS  AND  PREY  OF 
IXDI.VN  "TRADERS." 

Systems  of  Barter  —  "Sold  Out"  —  Fleeced  and  Victimized  by  the 
"Trader"  —  Indian  Wants  and  Necessities — The  Charm  of  Nov- 
elty—  An  Incident  at  Fort  Sedj^wick  —  The  Ornamented  Buffalo 
Robe  —  A  Warrior  with  a  Sweet  Tooth  —  The  First  Lot  of  Matches  — 
An  Astonished  Indian  —  Curiosity  Aroustd  —  A  Wonderful  Box  — 
Testing  the  Matches  One  by  One  —  Scoi'ched  Fingers  —  My  Treasures 
from  the  Utc  Campaign  —  Blanket  of  Rare  Boauty  and  Design  —  A 
Dishonored  Statute  —  The  Trapper  Thirty  Years  Ago  —  Domiciled 
with  Savages  —  A  Wild  Free  Life  —  Admitted  to  the  Indian  Brother- 
hood—  Sharing  Hairbreadth  Escapes  —  The  Gaming  Table  —  The 
Trader's  Grip  on  the  Red  Man's  Throat  —  Barefaced  Swindling  —  An 
Open  and  Shut  Game  —  Hobson's  Choice  —  The  Traders'  Prey. 

ROM  the  days  when  the  Dutch  ancestors 
of  the  nobility  of  Manhattan  Island  sim- 
plified their  trade  with  the  Indians  by 
making  the  hand  of  each  trader  weigh 
one  pound  and  his  foot  two  pounds,  to 
the  present  time,  every  scheme  that  inge- 
nuity could  devise  has  been  used  to  pre- 
vent the  Indians  from  gaining  any  definite 
idea  of  values. 
Though  every  particle  of  the  trade  is  really  nothing 
but  barter  (the  exchange  of  one  commodity  for 
another),  the  care  of  the  trader  is  always  to  refer  to 
money  prices,  and  thus  prevent  the  Indian  from  gain- 
ing an  idea  of  the  value  of  one  article  of  barter  as 
compared  with  the  value  of  some  other  article  of  bar- 
ter.   All  must  be  referred  to  money,  and  as,  until 

17  261 


^ 


.? 


i>: 


1 


w 


4     fc'» 


' '^*4i?*fc""; '   ■■■"       "•■■  ■    "■   ■  ■   '    '■    - 


.,j'ffr'":'^'-'f"V;' 


' '  ff->^'f ;  '.'5^-.~*;t*"  i|,' Af 


262 


NEEDS   VS.   TRICES. 


quite  recently,  the  Indian  could  not  grasp  the  idea  of 
a  "circulating  medium,"  he  was  always  in  a  mystified 
condition  —  that  is,  in  exactly  the  proper  condition  for 
the  purpose  of  the  trader.  Thus  the  trader  will  3ay, 
"  I  will  give  you  fiv^e,  or  ten,  cents  a  pound  for  your 
dressed  deer-skins;  "'  "I  will  give  you  so  much  a  piece 
for  your  wolf-skins,"  etc.,  etc.  The  Indian  accepts, 
sells  out,  and  then  asks  the  trader  how  much  it  all 
comes  to.  Immediately  after  the  Indian  commences 
to  buy.  The  trader  says:  "I  will  sell  you  this  calico 
for  twenty-five  cents  a  yard."  The  ofter  is  accepted, 
and  purchases  continued  until  the  credit  is  exhausted. 
To  us  the  logical  sequence  that  one  yard  of  calico  is 
worth  two  and  one-half  or  five  pounds  of  dressed  deer- 
skins is  perfectly  clear,  but  no  such  high  oi'der  of 
ratiocination  ever  culminated  in  the  brain  of  a  wild 
Indian. 

But  before  utterly  condemning  the  Indian  ^jr  his 
lack  of  perspicacity  we  must  reflect  tliat  all  values  to 
him  are  mere  accidents  of  his  suiM'oundings.  Aside 
from  his  intentional  mystification,  and  the  ahsonce  of 
any  competing  t  ader  or  other  means  of  arriving  at 
relative  values,  nothing  can  have  a  fixed  price  to  the 
Indian,  his  estimate  of  the  value  of  any  article  being 
exactly  in  proportion  to  his  need  of  it. 

Our  bo^'hood's  hero,  Robinson  Crusoe,  would  have 
given  half  his  island  for  the  few  seeds  of  corn  which 
he  fortunately  discovered;  and  the  Count  de  Moncerf, 
immured  in  the  prison  of  the  bandits,  paid,  with  how- 
ever many  protests,  his  hundred  thousand  francs  for 
a  breakfast. 

These  tales  of  fiction  arc  true  to  nature. 

"Who  can  estimate  the  vaiue  of  a  match  to  the  freez- 
ing wanderer  on  the  wintry  Plains  ?  or  of  a  cup  of 


'..-.AVi4. 


TVV'.f^T  fi  M         •  . 


A   GOOD   BAKGAIN. 


263 


of 
fied 
for 

L^ce 
ts, 
ill 

cs 

CO 

d. 

is 

pr- 


water  to  the  shipwrecked  mariner  alone  on  the  wide 
expanse  of  ocean  ? 

There  can  be  no  fixed  prices  when  things  are 
weighed  against  necessities.  The  white  man  has  the 
things,  the  Indian  the  necessities. 

It  would  scarcely  lie  fair  to  attribute  the  Indian 
ignorance  or  carelessness  of  values  entirely  to  the 
causes  above  enumerated.  By  nature  he  is  a  per- 
fect child,  and  when  he  wants  anything  he  wants  it 
with  all  his  heart  and  mind  and  soul,  immediately, 
and  without  reference  to  anything  else.  Like  the 
child,  who  would  gladly  exchange  the  ten-dollar  bill 
given  him  as  a  Christmas  present  for  a  red  apple 
or  a  toy  drum,  the  Indian  will  give  anything  he  pos- 
sesses for  the  merest  bauble  to  which  he  takes  a 
fancy.  A  novelty  has  the  greatest  charm,  and  he  will 
pay  a  hundred  times  iJ^s  value  for  an  article  new  to 
him. 

In  18G7  a  Sioux  Indian  came  to  Fort  Sedgwick, 
while  I  commanded  it,  having  in  his  possession  a  very 
fine  and  elaborately  painted  buffalo  robe.  Many  ef- 
forts were  made  by  the  officers  to  purchase  it ;  money, 
sugar,  coffee,  flour,  etc.,  to  the  amount  of  twenty  dol- 
lars, were  offered  and  refused. 

Some  time  after  a  sergeant  passed,  who  had  in  his 
hand  a  paper  containing  two  or  three  pounds  of  loaf 
sugar,  cut  into  cubic  blocks  (cut-loaf,  then  new  to 
frontier  people  and  to  Indians).  He  gave  the  Indian 
a  few  lumps  and  passed  on.  In  a  few  moments  the 
Indian  came  running  after  him,  took  the  robe  from 
his  shoulders,  and  offered  it  for  the  paper  of  sugar. 
The  exchange  being  made,  he  sat  down  on  the  ground 
and  deliberately  ate  up  every  lump. 

Years  ago,  when  matches  were  not  so  universally 


■/\ 


.V 


;■£":.■ 


J)i- 


"i-. 


'■7t^  ,^  '^**I«1>  •l"v:'*v' 


;.  yrr  ,;.,■,.■ 


•  ^:j.\i-*T-^'' 


«,>f— -If.- :^'T!:';.T.'--'  '•(. 


';."»»'■;''■■■  ?  "r;tf'  »';>'"J7 


264 


NAVAHO  BLANKETS. 


\/;'-"^<./ 

^"r^' 


used  as  now,  a  Lipan  Indian  was  visiting  Fort  Mar- 
tin Scott  in  Texas.  One  day  an  officer  to  whom  he 
was  talking  took  from  his  pocket  a  box  of  what,  to 
the  Indian,  were  merely  little  sticks,  and,  scratching 
one  on  a  stone,  lit  his  pipe.  The  Lipan  eagerly  in- 
quired into  this  mystery,  and  looked  on  with  astonish- 
ment while  several  matches  were  lighted  for  his  grati- 
fication. Going  to  his  camp  near  by,  he  soon  came 
back,  bringing  half  a  dozen  beautifully  dressed  wild- 
cat skins,  which  he  offered  for  the  wonderful  box. 
The  exchange  was  accepted,  and  he  went  off  greatly 
pleased.  Some  time  after  he  was  found  sitting  by  a 
large  stone,  on  which  he  was  gravely  striking  match 
after  match,  holding  each  in  his  fingers  until  forced 
to  drop  it,  and  then  carefully  inspecting  the  scorched 
finger,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  it  was  real  fire. 
This  he  continued  until  every  match  was  burned. 

During  the  Ute  campaign  of  this  summer,  1880, 1 
purchased  from  those  Indians  several  ^N^avaho  blank- 
ets. They  are  not  only  admirable  as  blankets,  but 
fanciful  in  design,  and  very  bright  in  colors.  On  my 
return  to  the  Indian  Territory  the  Cheyennes  soon 
found  out  that  I  had  them.  Almost  every  man, 
woman,  and  child,  of  all  the  camps  about  me  has  been 
at  my  house  to  see  them,  all  expressing  the  most  un- 
bounded admiration.  Every  persuasion  has  been 
used  and  inducement  held  out  to  me  to  "swap,"  and 
were  I  of  a  "  speculative  turn  of  mind  "  I  could  easily 
get  two  ponies  (fifty  to  sixty  dollars)  for  each  of 
them. 

Up  to  within  a  very  few  years  the  trade  of  Indians 
in  furs  and  skins  (peltries)  was  estimated  at  not  less 
than  twelve  millions  of  dollars  yearly,  and  the  trade 
in   other   products  of   various    kinds  added  not  a 


V-.t>»i.-.-i7->'V'W.S« 


mImnmi 


'"V':'  .'..;, trr-;/,  - 


TRAPPERS. 


265 


far- 
1  he 

t,  to 
ling 


little  to  the  amonnt.  Since  the  destruction  of  the 
buffalo  the  former  trade  has  greatly  fallen  off,  but 
there  has  been  some  gain  in  the  other  products. 

There  is  a  law  on  our  statute  book  (section  2137) 
prohibiting  persons  other  than  Indians  from  killing 
game  except  for  subsistence,  and  from  hunting  and 
trapping  in  the  Indian  country.  This  law  is  and  has 
always  been  a  dead  letter,  the  whole  of  that  country 
having  been  constantly  overrun  by  white  men,  who 
made  their  living  by  killing  game  and  trapping  the  fur- 
bearing  animals.  These  men,  aided  by  Indians,  built 
up  the  great  fur  trade  of  North  America,  founding 
some  of  the  most  colossal  fortunes  in  the  world. 

When  I  first  came  to  the  "  Far  West,"  thirty-two 
years  ago,  trapping  was  still  an  institution.  Generally 
alone,  sometimes  in  couples,  rarely  in  more  numer- 
ous companies,  trappers  ranged  the  whole  country 
wherever  peltries  were  to  be  had,  taking  each  year 
sufficient  to  make  a  trade  so  immense  that  great  cities 
like  St.  Louis  may  be  said  to  have  been  built  upon  it. 

It  is  a  common  matter  of  wonder  among  persons 
ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  Plains,  how  these  men 
could  have  voluntarily  adopted  a  means  of  livelihood 
apparently  so  full  of  danger;  and  how  it  was  possible 
for  so  many  of  them  to  escape  from  their  "  environment 
of  perils  "  and  live  to  enjoy  a  "  green  old  age."  The 
explanation  is  simple.  The  trappers  generally  started 
in  a  company  from  St.  Louis,  St.  Jo.,  or  some  one  of 
the  outfitting  towns.  They  were  well  provided  not 
only  with  arms,  traps,  and  other  necessities  to  their 
business,  but  with  a  goodly  assortment  of  so-called 
"  Indian  goods,"  articles  likely  to  be  most  acceptable 
to  the  tribes  among  which  they  expected  to  domicile 
themselves. 


■  m 


.  v 


-.'j%'*_^^.B.,'i,*.iv"f.ii 


♦r^W-'f-iSu     ■  .'V'',. 


^pppw 


■J'/V'-T"  "'"•'' 


'ife-J- 


».-^  SS  i7y-r- 


'•*•  •i'O-'" 


i 


266 


TRAPPERS   AND   TRADERS. 


r 


i 


i': 


'y? 


Taking-  advantage  of  the  intei'vab  of  peace  between 
the  tribes,  and  steering  clear  of  those  tribes  snpposed 
to  be  specially  hostile  to  whites,  they  arrived  in  tne 
country  they  proposed  to  trap  over  and  immediately 
separated  into  small  parties,  many  going  off  entirely 
alone.  Each  making  his  way  to  the  village  of  Indians 
most  convenient  to  the  territory  in  which  lie  wished 
to  trap,  proceeded  to  interview  the  chief  whose  friend- 
ship and  j)rotection  were  gained  by  generous  presents. 
After  a  short  sojourn,  other  presents  purchased  one 
or  more  squaws  and  a  teepe.  He  thus  became  a 
member  of  the  tribe,  went  where  he  pleased  within  the 
limits  of  its  territory,  and  set  his  traps  as  suited  his 
pleasure.  His  squaws  did  all  the  work,  made  and 
mended  his  clothing,  cooked  his  food,  skinned  the 
animals   caught,  and   properly  cared   for    the   pelts. 

Within  the  limits  of  the  territory  of  the  tribe  with 
which  he  was  affiliated,  he  was  as  safe  from  harm  as 
any  other  member  of  it,  and  the  "hair-breadth  'scajjcs" 
of  which  we  have  I'cad  so  much  were  those  which  he 
had  in  connuon  with  the  Indians  with  whom  he  lived. 

Besides  the  pelts  taken  by  his  own  hand,  he  added 
to  his  store  by  purchases  from  the  Indians,  thus 
encouraging  and  stimulating  them  to  extra  activity  in 
the  pursuit  of  game,  and  greatly  adding  to  his  own 
profits.  Each  year  his  pelts  were  taken  to  the  nearest 
trading-j)ost  of  the  Hudson  Bay,  or  American  Fur 
Company,  where,  after  j)urchasing  the  supplies  neces- 
sary Ibr  the  ensuing  year,  he  squandered  the  remainder 
at  the  gaming-table  or  in  a  furious  orgie. 

These  were  the  "  traders  "  with  whom  the  majority 
of  Indians  first  came  in  contact. 

The  profits  of  this  business  were  so  enormous  that 
the  government  attempted  to  take  control  of  it,  and 


•S'V 

A  ■ 


'.:-  _:.<■&■  ■■t.A* 


■  'lAi-:^'^*,^  ^'-i 


T.t /*','rr 


" 

s? 


NO    COMPETITION. 


267 


^■t  .J 


\n  1834  passed  a  law  (Sec.  2120,  Revised  Statutes) 
prohibiting  any  person  from  trading  with  Indians, 
except  such  as  should  have  permits  from  certain 
United  States  officials.  The  only  effect  of  this  law 
was  to  divert  these  profits  into  certain  channels.  The 
condition  of  the  Indian  was  in  no  way  improved;  he 
was  still  at  the  mercy  of  plunderers. 

In  18GG  a  really  good  law  was  enacted  (Sec.  2128, 
Rev.  Stat.),  evidently  with  the  design  of  giving  the 
Indian  some  of  the  advantages  of  competition,  but 
this  law  has  been  utterly  disregarded  by  the  authorities, 
and  the  Indian  ring  still  holds  its  felonious  grip  on 
the  Indian  throat. 

Within  a  comparatively  few  years,  almost  all  the 
wild  Indian  tribes  have  been  subjugated  and  placed 
on  reservations;  an  effort,  ludicrous,  were  it  not  sg 
sad,  being  still  made  to  reconcile  the  absurdity  of 
treating  as  sovereign  nations  people  whom  we  actually 
hold  as  prisoners  of  war. 

So  long  as  the  Indian  had  the  buffalo  he  was 
enabled  to  subsist  in  comfort,  even  on  these  com- 
paratively restricted  areas,  and  his  trade  was  of  suf- 
ficient importance  to  excite  competition  between  those 
authorized  by  the  Indian  Bureau  to  trade  with  him. 

At  the  present  time  Indian  trade  with  whites  is  very 
simple.  An  individual  is  given  the  sole  right  to  trade 
on  a  reservation,  or  with  a  certain  tribe  or  tribes.  He 
is  the  only  person  from  whom  the  Indians  can  buy  such 
articles  as  they  need.  He  is  the  only  person  to  whom 
they  can  sell  such  articles  as  they  have  to  dispose  of. 
The  monopoly  is  complete,  and  under  the  illegal 
ruling  of  the  Indian  department  there  can  be  no 
competition. 

The  barefaced  swiiidling  of  the  unfortunate  Indian 


,  "t  •  I 


I  >:.»fe^-:«''j£-i'S«'«?!i.'  • 


i  tji'  tL  I  >jt.^u«;>'  L^i^-'-' 


■  .▼ffT-  l^'yT  »»ifP'y  "•^■' '"-  '"^T^rr': 


2G8 


A  BUSINESS   TRANSACTION. 


that  goes  on  under  this  condition  of  affiiirs  can 
scarcely  be  conceived.  Articles  of  civilized  manu- 
facture, now  daily  becoming  more  and  more  necessary 
to  the  Indian,  are  sold  to  him  at  hundreds  per  cent, 
profit. 

Of  course  he  need  not  buy  if  he  does  not  v/ish  to  do 
so;  but  he  wants  the  article,  and  is  prevented  from 
buying  from  any  one  else;  so  he  must  either  be 
swindled  or  go  without  it. 

So  also  with  his  sales.  He  brings  the  trader  a  lot 
of  peltries,  and  is  oifered  in  trade,  five  or  ten  per 
cent,  of  their  value.  He  need  not  sell,  of  course.  It 
is  all  a  square  and  open  business  transaction  with  the 
trader.  There  is  no  force,  nor  even  persuasion  about 
it.  If  the  Indian  does  not  choose  to  accept  the 
trader's  price,  he  can  take  his  peltries  back  with  him 
to  his  camp. 

The  poor  devil,  hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  accepts 
the  situation  exactly  as  he  would  an  unavoidable 
death  at  the  stake,  and  whatever  he  may  think  on  the 
subject,  makes  no  protest,  tut  accepts  any  price 
offered,  or  gives  any  asked,  without  murmur  or 
question. 

The  destruction  of  the  buffalo  has  forced  the 
Indians  to  adopt  a  great  many  expedients  for  raising 
money  to  buy  those  articles  of  civilized  manufacture 
that  have  now  become  common  necessaries  among 
them.  Of  these  expedients  the  most  remarkable  and 
unlooked  for  is  work.  Formerly  only  women  worked. 
In  Indian  estimation,  a  man  degraded  himself  by 
doing  anything  that  had  the  appearance  of  labor. 
I^ow  it  is  not  unusual  to  see  gangs  of  men  and 
women  cutting  and  piling  cordwood,  or  raking  and 
loading  hay,  as  busy  and  noisy  as  civilized  laborers. 


«*^jli.t«t^  '■i^.::V- 


'"iK/V 


traders'  profits. 


269 


m 


can 

aini- 
isavy 
cent. 

to  do 
Ti-om 
be 


Many  of  the  contracts  for  the  snpply  of  fnel  and  hay 
to  military  posts  are  filled,  partially  at  least,  by  the 
labor  of  Indian  men  and  women. 

In  many  instances  the  contractors  are  Indian 
traders,  for  their  personal  acquaintance  with  and 
influence  among  the  Indians,  and  their  ability  to  pay 
for  work  done  in  goods,  give  them  a  signal  advantage 
over  other  bidders.  In  other  cases,  the  contractor 
makes  some  agreement  with  the  trader  and  pays  his 
Indian  laborenj  with  orders  on  the  latter.  In  either 
case,  the  result  is  the  same  swindling  of  the  Indian. 

A  short  time  ago  I  was  told  by  an  Indian  that  he 
had  cut  twenty  cords  of  wood  for  a  contractor,  for 
which  he  was  to  receive  one  doHar  and  twenty-five 
cents  per  cord.  The  wood  was  delivered,  and  he  re- 
ceived an  order  on  an  Indian  trader  some  sixty  miles 
away  for  payment  of  the  amount.  In  due  time  he 
presented  the  order,  and  was  paid  one  pint  cup  of 
brown  sugar  for  each  cord  of  wood  cut. 

Paul's  Yalley,  in  the  Chickasaw  Nation,  is  one  of 
the  garden  spots  of  earth.  Thousands  of  bushels  of 
corn  are  raised  by  the  Indians  in  and  near  this  valley. 
They  can  sell  only  to  the  Indian  trader.  I  have  been 
informed  that  the  average  price  paid  the  Indians  is 
fifteen  cents  per  bushel  in  goods  (three  to  five  cents 
cash).  This  corn  is  really  worth  there  over  one  dol- 
lar a  bushel  in  cash. 

From  every  article  sold  to  and  everything  bought 
of  an  Indian  the  trader  receives  his  hundreds  of  per 
cent,  of  profit.  He  has  thorough  control  of  the  finan- 
cial affairs  of  the  tribe;  not  a  transaction  can  be 
effected  without  paying  him  his  enormous  toll. 

At  present  the  trade  is  very  much  like  that  of  the 
country  merchant  at  the  East,  except  that  the  trader 


"^lA, 


■  -iv'    ) 


I  i 


fei^^- 


■::'i 


;*  i 


270 


CAN  I  MAirR  IT  MYSELF  1* 


fixes  the  price  for  botli  buying  and  selling.  An  In- 
dian comes  to  tlie  store  wiien  he  lias  anything  to  sell, 
and  taking  out  the  entire  proceeds  in  trade,  returns  to 
his  home  exactly  like  a  farmer  in  the  East. 

The  Indian  barter  among  themselves  is  conducted 
as  might  be  expected  f:om  what  has  been  said.  He  is 
sharp  in  a  horse  trade,  and  generally  correct  in  his  es- 
timate of  the  value  of  one  article  of  daily  use  as  com- 
jiared  to  another.  In  these  estimates,  however,  time 
is  not  considered.  He  has  not  yet  arrived  at  that 
stage  of  progress  when  a  "  day's  work  "  has  a  definite 
value.  When  considering  the  value  of  any  article  his 
first  thought  is,  "Can  I  make  it  myself?"  and  if  so,  the 
number  of  days  it  will  take  him  to  do  it  is  a  matter  of 
no  consequence.  A  man  will  work  a  month  to  com- 
plete a  bow  and  quiver  of  arrows  and  then  sell  them 
for  five  dollars.  A  woman  will  spend  five  doUars  on 
beads,  and  work  faithfully  for  three  months  making 
and  ornamenting  with  them  a  cradle  or  some  other 
article,  and  then  sell  it  for  ten  dollars. 

Tlie  inter-tribal  trade  varies  very  greatly  in  impor- 
tance. Among  the  Plains  tribes  it  is  extremely  lim- 
ited.    A  trade  is,  however,  springing  np. 

The  Cites  have  a  very  considerable  trade  with  the 
Navahoes^  n::d  these  again  with  the  Arizona  tribes, 
even  to  the  Gulf  of  California.  I  bought  from  a  Ute 
Indiu'.i  a  beautiful  necklace  of  sea-shells,  which  had 
been  passed  from  hand  to  hand  in  trade  all  the  way 
from  the  Pacific  coast. 


i«L 


tmlltn 


.■., ,1ft-*  X  i  f  i>ili.  t  .Vl 


it;." 


Tn- 
sell, 
lis  to 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

INDIAN      COOKS      AND      COOKING  —  FAVORITE      FOOD 
AND   ODD   DISHES  —  AMUSING   EXPEUIEXCES. 


"^fl 


'»:ffl 


Imliun  Cooks  —  Tccpo  Mnnners  —  ".Fingers  Ijcforo  Forks"  —  The 
"  Tonisli  "  Tliiii":  in  Sorvinj;  —  IIow  Intli:vns  Cook  for  Tiiomselves  — 
An-Oll'-IIand  Roast  —  Tlie  Marrow-Bones  —  The  Clioioest  Bonne 
Boiieiu;  —  Enarmous  Feedcs  —  Eating  Twenty  Pounds  at.  One  Meal  — 
Gluttony  of  tlie  Red  Skins — The  Cull  for  More  —  Cunninj>;  and 
Strategy — Aecumulated  Breakfasts  —  An  Astonishing  ApiK-tito  — 
Job's  Turkey  —  A  Tough  One  —  An  Abandoned  Fowl  —  An  Odd 
Superstition— -Unblushing  Ciieidi  —  Eating  Ten  Feet  of  Marrow 
Guts  — The  Use  of  Salt  — Red  IVi.ner  and  Bhi'-k  —  Seleetion  of  the 
Entrails  —  The  Indian's  Most  Delieious  Alorsel  —  .My  Invitation  to 
Dine  with  the  Pawnee  Chief — A  Disgusting  Repast  —  Dog  Flesh  — 
Fat  Puppy  —  Skunk  —  My  Interview  with  Stone  Calf. 

(j?^^YI>^  j  KLESS  able  to  rival  the  ftisting 
'  '  '  '  poAvci's  of  Dr.  Tanner,  a  vegetarian 
would  have  little  chance  of  ^survival' 
among  Indians.  In  their  natural  con- 
dition the  sole  diet  of  the  Plains  In- 
dians for  at  least  nine  months  in  the 
vear  is  the  flesh  of  animals,  and 
though  they  prefer  it  cooked,  they  are 
by  no  means  averse  to  it  raw. 
In  cam])  the  duty  of  cooking  is  usually  devolved 
on  the  oldest  or  least  favorite  squaw.  There  is  no 
variety  of  style,  no  French  methods,  no  necessity  for 
titillating  appetites  already  over-keen.  A  ])ot  full 
of  meat  and  water  is  put  on  the  fire  and  boiled,  but 
thci'e  is  no  definite  point  in  the  cooking  jDrocess  when 

271 


,'»■•■ 


■■Vf 


272 


SQUAW   COOKING. 


the  food  is  "  done."  If  an  Indian  is  especially  hun- 
gry, he  may  commence  on  the  contents  of  the  pot  by 
the  time  they  arc  fairly  warm.  Generally,  however, 
it  is  allowed  to  boil  until  the  head  of  the  lodge  inti- 
mates that  he  is  hungry,  when  the  pot  is  set  off  the 
fire ;  and  each,  ci'owding  around,  helps  him  or  herself 
Avith  knives  or  fingers,  sometimes  with  a  huge  stick, 
cut  in  the  shape  of  a  ladle.  Among  the  more  ad- 
vanced tribes  tin  plates  are  now  frequently  used,  and, 
sitting  around  on  the  beds  or  ground,  the  diners  are 
helped  successively  by  the  old  squaw  who  does  the 
cooking.  Tins  is  considered  the  civilized,  the  "  ton- 
ish  "  way,  but  is  not  much  liked,  the  helping  squaw 
being  always  suspected  of  favoritism.  There  is  no 
fault-finding  about  the  cooking,  a^ul  whether  "half 
raw,"  or  "done  to  rags,"  no  objection  is  made,  pro- 
vided the  meat  be  of  good  quality,  and  sufficient  in 
quantity. 

This  is  the  habitual  and  formal  style  of  cooking 
and  eating  in  the  permanent  camp,  and  also  on  hunt- 
ing and  pleasure  parties,  when  squaws  are  taken  to 
cook  for  them;  but  on  warlike  or  thieving  expedi- 
tions, when  no  women  are  along,  each  buck  cooks  for 
himself,  broiling  his  meat  on  the  coals,  or  roasting  it 
on  a  stick  over  the  fire. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  good  meat  cooked  in  this 
way  is  far  more  palatable  than  that  boiled,  nor  tiiat 
the  Indian  greatly  prefers  his  out-door  style  of  cook- 
ing; but  boiling  is  less  trouble,  and,  therefore,  pre- 
fen-ed  by  the  women.  That  he  at  liome  puts  up  with 
boiled  meat  every  day  of  his  life,  when  he  prefers 
it  broiled  or  roasted,  is  pretty  good  evidence  that, 
however  complete  and  vigorous  his  sway,  however 
absolute  his  power  over  his  family  under  certain  cir- 


MARROW-BONES. 


273 


eumstances,  he  is  yet  subject  iii  his  domestic  circle  to 
the  same  control,  or  influence,  that  falls  to  the  lot  of 
civilized  man. 

The  Indian  is  a  great  epicure ;  knows  the  choicest 
titbits  of  every  animal,  and  just  how  to  cook  it  to 
suit  his  taste.  The  great  fall  hunt  yields  him  the 
fullest  enjoyment  of  his  ajDiJctite,  for  then  he  not  only 
has  choice  of  the  more  savory  parts,  but,  the  women 
being  employed  in  other  work,  it  is  not  derogatory  to 
his  dignity  to  cook  for  himself. 

His  days  arc  spent  in  all  the  delights  and  excite- 
ments of  the  chase,  and  almost  the  whole  of  his  nights 
in  feasting  and  revelry.  This  is  the  time  for  "  mar- 
row guts,"  for  "  hump  ribs,"  and  for  "  marrow  bones." 
The  first  can,  to  the  Indian,  scarcely  be  improved  by 
cooking,  but  the  greatest  ei^icures  will  wrap  eight  or 
ten  feet  around  a  stick,  sprinkle  it  plentifully  with 
salt,  and  hold  it  in  a  bright  blaze  until  the  melted  fat 
streams  down.  The  whole  mass  is  swallowed  almost 
red-hot,  and  is  the  choicest  honne  hoiiche  with  which 
an  Indian  palate  can  be  tickled. 

In  butchering,  the  women  cut  the  meat  as  closely  as 
possible  from  the  bones,  but  leaving  on  and  between 
the  ribs  many  a  glorious  mouthful.  Broad  slabs  of 
these  ribs  are  placed  before  a  fire  of  hot  coals,  turned, 
basted,  and  roasted  secundem  artem.  The  large 
bones  of  the  hind  legs*  are  thrown  ufjon  the  glow* 
ing  coals,  or  hidden   under  the   hot  embers,  then 


•^ 


^;i 


' -V  * 


■MM 


*  Tho  fovp-legs  of  the  buffalo  are  scarcely  larger  than  those  of  domes- 
tic cattle,  but  they  are  enormously  stronger.  The  bone  is  so  thick  that 
the  internal  cavity  is  a  mere  pith.  I  have  often  been  greatly  amused  at 
the  utter  disapiwintment  of  green  hunters,  who,  liaving  heard  of 
"  marrow  bones,"  and  octormined  on  tho  treat,  had  brought  into  camp 
and  roasted  the  fore-legs  of  the  buffalo,  to  find,  when  they  had  with  diifi' 
culty  cracked  the  bones  —  nothing. 


iwitvi 


■11"  '1  V  "■"   i» ■!'  MiiiWjip  jijjij  IBiiiWM  B  j,iuii.w<*|fW'wt|iWI^»llij'IW<|iiiwf  i>.N''P"*'l'  "i*p>«l>P'i' 


•~f;^\}>'^i'^Tt^if-<?4yi-y^'-^^-}'-'--"^!ur'f-tj-r:t:it\r,:.^^^^^^  -^r  -j-^.a-, ;  ,■. ; "^^".li•^:■'^*'¥/;■,•M7>I^■».;*i*5^>!J^.^'''^"■*^*- 


274 


A  FEAST. 


U-. 


^'- 


■l.-ii 


1  -/'■• 


■\ 


cracked  ])etweon  two  stones,  and  the  rich,  deUcious 
marrow  sucked  in  quantities  sufficient  to  ruin  a  white 
stomach  forever. 

Marrow-fat  is  believed  by  the  Indians  to  be  espe- 
cially good  for  the  hair,  and  during  the  feast  the 
greasy  hands  are  constantly  wiped  upon  and  passed 
througli  his  long  tails. 

The  Indian  is  an  enormous  feeder.  But  that  corrob- 
orative evidence  is  so  easily  obtained,  I  should  hesitate 
to  give  details  of  his  wonderful  capacity  of  stomach. 
In  the  course  of  a  night  of  feasting,  dancing,  and 
story-telling,  an  average  Indian  will  consume  from  ten 
to  fifteen  pounds  of  meat;  and  if  he  has  abundance  of 
food,  and  can  make  selection  of  the  parts  to  be  eaten, 
he  will  swallow,  without  indigestion  or  other  incon- 
venience, not  less  than  twenty  pounds. 

I  was  once  on  a  hunt  with  an  escort — the  Sioux 
being  very  bad  —  of  twenty  infantry  soldiers  and 
seven  Pawnee  Indians.  On  the  second  day  we  killed 
a  magnificent  buck  elk,  one  of  the  finest  I  ever  saw, 
and  weigliing  gross  not  less  than  seven  hundred 
pounds.  Cutting  the  carcass  in  two,  behind  the  ribs, 
I  reserved  the  hind-quartei-s  to  take  back  to  camp, 
and  taking  a  few  pounds  foi*  the  use  of  our  mess,  I 
gave  the  soldiers  one  fore-quai*ter,  and  the  Indians 
the  other.  To  these  latter  I  also  gave  the  entrails, 
which  were  eaten  on  the  spot,  raw. 

The  Indians  danced  and  feasted  all  night,  and  came 
to  me  next  morning  for  more  meat.  Seven  Indians 
had  had  fifteen  or  twenty  pounds  more  meat  than 
twenty  soldiers;  yet  next  morning  the  soldiers  had 
enough  to  last  tAvo  whole  days,  the  Indians  had  noth- 
ing. With  fullest  allowance  for  bone,  they  had  aver- 
aged in  the  night's  feast  at  least  fifteen  pounds  apiece. 


J .,.(,. 


-J*  i.,:^^.i 


:st^<f' 


<>;';■';<■  ■to!;;<'»'9'j<^',"S.   ^i'-i'' 


A  TOUGH   GOBBLES. 


275 


but  in  the  morning,  like  "  Oliver  Twist,"  they  wanted 


"  more." 


An  old  Indian  employed  as  guide  at  a  military  post 
was  much  liked  and  petted  by  the  officers  of  the  gar- 
rison, and  was  always  invited  to  sit  down  to  table  if 
he  happened  in  an  officer's  quarters  at  meal  time.  He 
soon  found  out  that  they  breakfasted  at  different 
hours,  and  before  a  great  while  it  was  discovered  that 
about  twice  a  week  the  old  fellow  commenced  with 
the  earliest  and  wound  up  Avith  the  latest,  so  well 
timing  himself  as  to  secure  four  hearty  breakfasts  on 
one  and  the  same  morning.  By  a  little  management 
he  might  have  secured  a  breakfast  from  some  one  of 
the  officers  every  day  in  the  week,  but  he  preferred  to 
have  a  good  square  meal,  a  regular  surfeit,  twice  a 
week,  and  took  this  method  of  getting  it,  being 
ashamed  to  eat  so  much  as  he  wanted  at  any  one 
house. 

Some  years  ago  an  exploring  party  found  itself  in  a 
country  so  barren  of  game  that  the  efforts  of  its  best 
hunters  had  been  able  to  secure  only  one  huge  turkey 
gobbler,  so  old  and  tough  that  though  parboiled,  and 
boiled,  and  roasted,  no  one  had  been  able  to  masticate 
him.  Unwilling  to  lose  so  much  meat,  he  was  then 
cut  up,  put  in  a  camp-kettle,  and  stewed  for  near 
twenty-four  hours.  Even  this  failing  to  soften  him,  he 
was  about  to  be  thrown  out  for  the  wolves,  when  a 
party  of  Indians  made  its  appearance,  with  the  inevi- 
table demand  for  "  chuck."  The  officer  in  command, 
having  little  else,  bethought  him  of  the  turkey,  and 
ordered  it  to  be  set  before  the  Indians.  The  old 
chief  carefully  examined  the  contents  of  the  kettle, 
then  gravely  informed  his  followers  that  it  was  "guaca- 
lote*^'  (turkey),  that  to  eat  it  would  make  them  cow- 


']'^^ 


mm 


{..■^  y ■  y. '^"i:-. ,j .*'^(»»-f;f:-."^"'?i;?' 


[,^>;;~»-i,-*.''TVi,T? 


276 


?  Si: 


t*^ 


A   SQUARE  MEAL. 


ardly,  that  he  was  old,  had  not  long  to  live,  was  not 
ambitious  of  further  distinction,  and  would  therefore 
risk  it.  After  this  exhortation  he  deliberately  turned 
to  the  kettle,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  emptied  it  com- 
pletely, storing  away,  the  officer  declares,  not  less 
than  two  gallons,  or  sixteen  pounds  of  solid  and  liquid 
food. 

Even  in  their  wildest  state,  all  the  Indians  I  have 
ever  known  use  salt  with  their  food  when  they  can 
get  it.  This  mineral  is  so  generally  distributed 
throughout  the  western  country  that  it  is  easily 
obtained,  though  I  have  known  it  purchased  at  high 
prices. 

The  advanced  tribes  take  greatly  to  condiments, 
using  considerable  quantities  of  both  red  and  black 
pepper.  Curious  as  it  may  appear,  this  last  article  is 
used  frequently  in  tea  and  coffee.  This  is  done  by 
old  men,  who  believe  it  invigorates  them. 

Among  white  hunters,  the  rule  of  parties  hunting 
togetlier  is,  that  while  the  meat  must  be  divided 
equally  among  all,  the  hide  and  horns  belong  to  the 
man  who  shot  the  animal.  Among  Indians,  the  gen- 
eral rule  is  the  same,  but  the  special  perquisite  of  the 
successful  shot,  and  that  on  which  he  sets  most  store, 
is  the  entrails.  As  soon  as  the  game  is  killed  it  is 
opened,  and  the  lucky  hunter  seating  himself  beside 
the  carcass,  betakes  liimself  to  what  is  to  him  a 
most  perfect  repast.  The  smaller  entrails  go  iirst, 
but  he  is  not  satisfied  until  bowels,  stomach,  liver, 
and  not  unfrequently,  heart  and  lungs  have  all  dis- 
appeared before  his  astounding  appetite. 

The  liver  of  a  very  fat  buffalo  or  elk  will  not 
unfrequently  become  granulated  and  iDroken  u])  by 
overheating  in  a  long  chase.    This,  with  the  conti^nts 


"!-■;«,'*,■  ■/^^^■('■i 


VARIED   TASTES. 


277 


of  the  gall-bladder  sprinkled  over  it,  is  one  of  the 
most  delicious  of  all  morsels  that  can  titillate  an 
Indian  palate.  A  Pawnee  chief,  a  great  fri  :nd  of 
mine,  once  brought  and  presented  me  with  several 
pounds  of  this  stuff  tied  up  in  a  handkerchief.  He 
was  greatly  astonished  when  I  told  him  I  could  not 
eat  it,  but  his  mortification  did  not  prevent  his  bury- 
ing his  face  in  the  handkerchief,  from  which  he 
scarcely  lifted  it  until  every  particle  of  the  horrid 
mess  had  disappeared. 

The  smaller  entrails  of  even  the  largest  animals  are 
eaten  raw. 

Dog-flesh  is  regarded  by  the  Sioux  as  almost  a 
sacred  dish,  being  reserved  only  for  feasts  on  occa- 
sions of  ceremony,  or  when  desiring  to  do  special 
honor  to  a  distinguished  guest.  "VVlien  very  fat, 
wolf  is  considered  nearly,  if  not  quite,  as  good 
as  dog. 

The  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoes  are  very  fond  of 
fat  puppy,  but  only  eat  dog  when  forced  to  it  by 
hunger. 

The  Comanches  are  extremely  fond  of  horse-flesh, 
preferring  it  to  beef  or  even  buffalo.  The  most  deli- 
cate and  delicious  dish  that  a  Comanche  can  set 
before  his  most  distinguished  guest  is  the  foetus  of 
a  mare  boiled  in  its  own  liquid. 

Even  when  buffalo  and  other  large  game  was  most 
plentiful,  skunk  was  most  highly  esteemed  as  an 
article  of  diet,  and  was  considered  specially  beneficial 
to  women  in  an  interesting  condition.  The  odor  of 
the  animal  is  no  protection  against  the  Indian,  who 
seizes  it  by  the  tail  and  beats  it  against  the  ground 
until  dead,  regardless  alike  of  the  fetid  discharge 
which  would  sicken  a  white  man,  or  of  the  danger  of 

18 


278 


TURKEY  NO   GOOD. 


h 


its  bite,  which  in  some  portions  of  the  country  is 
ahnost  certainly  followed  by  that  most  horrible  of  all 
maladies,  hydrophobia. 

In  their  rambles  about  camp,  heretofore  spoken  of, 
the  boys  kill  with  their  arrows  a  good  many  birds, 
rabbits,  and  other  small  game.  The  larger  portion 
of  these  is  eaten  by  the  boys  themselves,  but  many 
are  taken  to  camj^,  where  they  are  eagerly  pounced 
upon  by  the  mothers,  whose  special  prerogative  they 
seem  to  be.  A  hole  is  raked  in  the  ashes,  the  bird 
or  animal  is  placed  in  it  and  covered  over  with  ashes 
and  coals.  After  half  an  hour,  or  less,  it  is  taken 
out,  beat(  11  a  few  times  against  the  ground  to  get 
rid  of  the  ashes,  the  feathers  pulled  off  (bringing 
the  skin  with  them),  and  devoured,  entrails  and  all. 

This  process  of  cooking  is  by  no  means  appetizing 
to  witness,  but  I  can  aver,  from  personal  experience, 
that  it  is  really  the  very  best  way  to  cook  a  small 
and  delicately  flavored  bird,  all  its  juices  being 
retained. 

Some  few  animals  and  birds  were  protected  by 
superstition  —  though  this  was  not  strong  enough  to 
amount  to  absolute  prohibition.  They  could  not  be 
eaten  by  the  Indian  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
but  this  did  not  prevent  his  eating  them  when  the 
circumstances  were  extraordinary.  Our  favorite 
Christmas  bird,"  the  turkey,  was  tabooed  to  the 
Indian,  who  would  not  eat  it,  except  when  on  the 
verge  of  starvation.  He  believed  it  would  make 
him  cowardly,  and  run  from  his  enemies,  as  the  tur- 
key runs  from  his  pursuers. 

But  all  this  is  gone.  Religion,  superstition,  public 
opinion,  even  self-respect,  all  give  way  before  the 
cravings  of  an  empty  stomach. 


'■  "!■.■  V"*<'.«  /:"^'^"*J^'-'   i^';.y/\n 


■■'tv'.Vi^'".'  ?,-■,■■ 


DISGUSTENO   FOOD. 


279 


IS 

all 


Except  in  the  item  of  a  general  uncleanliness, 
which  was  common  then  as  now,  the  whole  matter  of 
the  Indian  food  sui)ply  has  undergone,  within  a  few 
years,  a  complete  change  in  most  of  t\  Indian  tribes. 
Even  as  late  as  1872,  the  food  question  was  the  least 
concern  of  Indian  life;  now  it  is  the  paramount,  and 
with  many  of  the  tribes,  I  may  say,  the  only  question. 
Government  has  made  prisoners  of  the  Indians,  con- 
fining them  on  reservations,  has  allowed  white  men 
to  kill  off  the  game  suj^posed  to  be  protected  to  them 
by  laws,  and  now  starves  them  with  insufficient 
appropriations. 

What  was  mere  uncleanliness  in  the  Indian's  day 
of  plenty,  has  degenerated  into  squalor.  The  Indian 
who  only  ten  years  ago  contented  himself  with  noth- 
ing but  the  very  choicest  portions  of  animal  food, 
now,  pinched  by  hunger,  eats  any  and  everything. 
Dogs,  wolves,  reptiles,  half-decomposed  horse-flesh, 
even  carrion  birds,  all  go  to  appease  the  gnawings 
of  his  famished  stomach. 

Last  summer  an  Indian  pony  mired  down  in  the 
quicksands  of  the  river,  a  few  miles  below  my  post, 
and  was  drowned.  The  carcass  was  not  discovered 
for  some  days.  The  Indians  eagerly  flocked  around, 
and  speedily  stripped  the  putrid  flesh  from  the  bones, 
carrying  it  in  triumph  to  their  lodges. 

Early  in  the  fall  of  1879,  Stone  Calf,  a  Cheyenne 
chief  of  standing,  and  a  man  of  ability  and  character, 
came  to  my  office  and  asked  me  to  furnish  rations  to 
himself  and  his  people.  I  explained  to  him  that  it 
was  impossible,  the  orders  of  the  War  Department 
prohibiting  Post  Commanders  from  issuing  rations  to 
Indians,  except  by  special  direction  of  the  Secretary 
of  War. 


mi 


■v'B'.*>-^e  V^A*  I.  i.:hl  r'. 


ipp 


■h.' r  rf.  krif     ■>;-; 


280 


A  MANLY  CHIEF. 


i  -M 


He  thought  for  some  moments  in  silence,  then 
said,  — 

"  Colonel,  I  want  permission  to  go  with  my  people 
to  the  '  Staked  Plains,'  to  hunt." 

I  had  no  authority  to  give  him  such  pei*mission,  but 
I  might  have  been  able  to  obtain  it  for  him  had  I  con- 
sidered it  safe  and  proper.  To  arrive  at  the  ^'  Staked 
Plains"  he  would  be  obliged  to  cross  the  "Pan- 
handle "  of  Texas.  That  country  is  full  of  cattle,  the 
Indians  were  nearly  starving.  If  they  crossed  they 
were  almost  sure  to  kill  some  cattle,  which  would 
bring  on  a  collision  between  them  and  the  Texans.  I 
therefore  said,  — 

"  No,  I  cannot  give  you  the  permission." 

At  this  his  face  fell,  and  he  looked  very  grave. 
Straightening  himself  up  in  his  chair  to  the  full 
height  of  his  rather  small  figure,  and  looking  squarely 
at  me,  "  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger,"  he  said,  — 

"  The  agent  will  give  me  nothing  to  eat.  You  will 
give  me  nothing,  and  you  will  not  let  me  go  where  I 
can  get  something  for  myself.  I  cannot  stand  it 
much  longer.  I  tell  you.  Colonel,  I  had  rather  die 
fighting  than  die  of  starvation." 

For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  felt  like  taking  an 
Indian  to  my  heart.  He  was  right,  he  was  manly, 
and  had  justice  on  his  side. 

My  official  position  required  me  to  conceal  my  own 
eentinents,  and  try  to  soften  the  temper  of  his  mind, 
but  I  have  a  great  respect  and  admiration  for  Stone 
Calf  Were  I  an  Indian,  I  fear  that,  with  their  pro- 
vocations, I  should  be  a  bad  Indian. 

Every  military  post  in  the  Indian  country  is 
besieged  by  these  starving  people.  The  slop-barrels 
and  dmnp-piles  are  carefully  scrutinized,  and   stuff 


.  w.'.v,  ■...■^i^.'b;.  ■>s«ju'>  oj'ii-.'ii 


■n 


HORROllS   OF   FAMINE. 


281 


that  a  cur  would  disdain  is  carried  off  iii  triumph. 
The  offal  about  the  butcher  shop  is  quarrelled  over, 
and  devoured  raw  and  on  the  spot.  The  warm  blood 
of  the  slaughtered  beeves  is  sucked  up  by  numerous 
mouths  before  it  has  time  to  sink  into  the  ground. 
Every  horse  that  dies  of  disease  or  by  accident,  is  at 
once  converted  into  meat,  and  at  Fort  Reno,  under 
the  tegis  of  the  Interior  Department,  and  where  hun- 
ger is  supposed  by  peojile  generally  to  be  impossible, 
a  dead  horse  or  mule  is  no  sooner  dragged  away  from 
the  vicinity  of  the  post,  than  it  is  pounced  upon,  cut 
up,  and  carried  off  by  the  starved  Indians.  They  ask 
no  questions,  and  meat  is  meat,  even  though  it  was 
killed  for  farcy  or  glanders.  Nothing  is  too  disgust- 
ingly filthy  to  come  amiss  to  the  starving  Indian. 

Some  tribes  cultivate  small  patches  of  corn,  vege- 
tables, pumjjkins,  melons,  etc.  They  are,  however, 
generally  eaten  before  they  are  ripe. 

Some  of  the  so-called  wild  tribes  of  the  Indian 
Teri-itory,  as  the  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoes,  raise 
fairly  good  crops  of  corn,  but  it  is  generally  hypothe- 
cated to,  or  soon  finds  its  way  for  a  mere  song  into 
the  hands  of  the  monster  devised  by  the  government 
to  keep  the  Indian  in  abject  penury,  the  Indian  trader. 


'^M 


>''S  •■ 


•-Vfl; 


^;- 


;.* 


.;S.«.vI«U,;    -l.,,4... 


mm. 


V* 


.-A- 


■4^ 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  BUFFALO  AND  ITS  DESTRUCTION — THE  INDIAN'S 
GKEAT  FALL  HUNT  —  EXCITING  ADVENTURES. 

The  Indi.in  nnd  Iho  Buffalo  — The  Old  Days  of  Plenty  — Habits  and 
Instincts  —  Immense  Herds  —  A  Coliunn  Fifty  Miles  Wide,  and 
of  Unknown  Ueptli  —  A  TIn'illing  Adventure  at  Pawnee  Rock  — 
Danger  from  a  Stampeded  Herd  —  "Splitting"  the  Column  —  Safe 
at  Last  —  Scenes  of  Wild  Animation  —  Mistaken  Ideas  of  Old  Plains- 
men—How  tlic  Indians  Hunt  Buffalo— The  "Surround"  —  Closing 
In  for  the  Attack  —  The  Signal  — Wild  Onset  of  Warriors  —  Desperate 
Resistance  —  The  Slaughter  —  The  Sioux  Plan  —  My  Camp  on  Big 
Coon  Creek  —  My  Adventure  with  a  Panic-stricken  Herd  —  A  Camp 
Aroused  at  Midnight  —  Hairbreadth  Escape  —  The  Extinction  of  the 
Buffalo —  Wanton  Slaughter  —  Barbarous  Practices. 

T  is  almost  impossible  for  a  civilized 
being  to  realize  tbe  value  to  tbe  Plains 
Indian  of  the  buffalo.  It  furnished  him 
with  home,  food,  clothing,  bedding,  horse 
equipment,  almost  everything.  AVith  it 
he  was  rich  and  happy,  without  it  he  is 
poor  as  poverty  itself,  and  constantly  on 
the  verge  of  starvation. 

Fifty  years  ago  the  buffalo  ranged 
from  the  Plains  of  Texas  to  far  north  beyond  the 
British  line;  from  the  Missouri  and  Upper  Missis- 
sippi to  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
Every  portion  of  this  immense  area,  called  the  Plains, 
was  either  the  permanent  home  of  this  animal,  or 
might  be  expected  to  have  each  year  one  or  more 
visits  from  migratory  thousands . 

282 


..■_1 ..  ^^'Jcr/t    '  ^  . 


A.:.^  ■ 


IMMENSE   HERDS. 


283 


These  migrations  were  exeeedingly  erratic,  depend- 
ing somewhat  on  climate,  but  principally  on  the  sup- 
ply of  grass. 

From  18G9  to  1873  I  was  stationed  at  various  posts 
along  the  Arkansas  River.  Early  in  spring,  as  soon 
as  the  dry  and  apparently  desert  prairie  had  begun 
to  change  its  coat  of  dingy  brown  to  one  of  palest 
green,  the  horizon  would  begin  to  be  dotted  with 
buffalo,  single,  or  in  groups  of  two  or  three,  forerun- 
ners of  the-  coming  herd.  Thicker  and  thicker,  and 
in  larger  groups  they  come,  until  by  the  time  the 
grass  is  well  up,  the  whole  vast  landscape  appears  a 
mass  of  bulfalo,  some  individuals  feeding,  others 
standing,  others  lying  down,  but  the  herd  moving 
slowly,  moving  constantly  to  the  northward.  Of 
their  number  it  was  impossible  to  form  even  a  con- 
jecture. 

At  this  season  they  are  thin  in  flesh,  and  not  at  all 
wild,  and  a  man  on  foot  or  horseback  may  approach 
quite  close,  or  even  ride  into  the  herds,  without  caus- 
ing more  than  a  slight  deviation  from  their  course. 

Determined  as  they  are  to  pursue  their  journey 
noi'tliward,  they  are  yet  exceedingly  cautious  and 
timid  about  it,  and  on  any  alarm  rush  to  the  south- 
ward with  all  speed,  until  that  alarm  is  dissipated. 
Especially  is  this  the  case  when  any  unusual  object 
appears  in  their  rear,  and  so  utterly  regardless  are 
they  of  consequences,  that  an  old  Plainsinan  will  not 
risk  a  wagon  train  in  such  a  herd,  where  a  rising 
ground  will  permit  those  in  front  to  get  a  good  view 
of  their  rear. 

In  May,  1871,  I  drove  in  a  buggy  from  old  Fort 
Zara  to  Fort  Larned,  on  the  Arkansas  River.  The 
distance   is  thirty-four  miles.     At  least  twenty-five 


*; 


■:•■*( 


% 


- 


284 


SPLITTING  A  HERI\ 


miles  cf  that  distance  was  through  an  immense  herd. 
The  whole  country  appeared  one  mass  of  buffalo, 
moving  slowly  to  the  northward,  and  it  was  only 
when  actually  among  them  that  it  could  be  ascer- 
tained that  the  apparently  solid  mass  was  an  agglom- 
eration of  countless  small  herds  of  from  fifty  to  two 
Imndred  animals,  separated  from  the  surrounding 
herds  by  greater  o;*  less  space,  but  still  separated. 

The  road  ran  along  the  broad  valley  of  the  Arkan- 
sas. Some  miles  from  Zara  a  low  line  of  hills  rises 
from  the  plain  on  the  right,  gradually  increasing  in 
height,  and  approaching  road  and  river,  until  they 
culminate  in  Pawnee  Rock,  when  they  again  recede. 

So  long  as  I  was  in  the  broad  level  valley,  the 
herds  sullenly  got  out  of  my  way,  and  turning,  stared 
stupidly  at  me,  some  within  thirty  or  forty  yards. 
When,  however,  I  had  reached  a  point  where  the  hills 
were  no  more  than  a  mile  from  the  road,  the  buffalo 
on  the  crests  seeing  an  unusual  object  in  their  rear, 
turned,  stared  an  instant,  then  started  at  full  speed 
towards  me  (South),  stampeding  and  bringing  with 
them  the  numberless  herds  through  which  they  jjassed, 
and  pouring  down  upon  me,  no  longiu-  separated,  but 
compacted  into  one  innnense  mass  of  plunging  ani- 
mals, mad  with  fright,  irresistible  as  an  avalamhe. 

The  situation  was  by  no  means  pleasant.  There 
was  but  one  hope  of  escape.  My  horse  was  fortu- 
nately a  quiet  old  beast,  that  had  rushed  with  me  into 
manv  a  herd,  and  been  in  at  the  death  of  many  a  buf- 


fal 


Reining  him  up,  I  waited  until  the  fronc  of 


this  mass  was  within  fifty  yards,  then,  with  a  few 
well-directed  shots,  dropped  some  of  the  leaders,  split 
the  herd  and  sent  it  off  in  two  streams  to  my  right 
and  left.     When  all  had  passed  me  they  stopped, 


I 


m. 


.w^'^T'jv.'w'ri'" 


THE    SUMMEE  FEEDING-GROUND. 


285 


d. 
o. 


^r» 


apparently  perfectly  satisfied,  though  thousands  were 
yet  within  reach  of  my  rifle,  and  many  within  less 
than  a  hundred  yards.  After  my  servant  had  cut  out 
the  tongues  of  the  fallen,  I  proceeded  on  my  journey, 
only  to  have  a  similar  experience  within  a  mile  or 
two.  and  this  occuri-ed  so  often  that  I  reached  Fort 
Larned  with  twenty-six  tongues  in  my  wagon,  repre- 
senting t)ie  greatest  number  of  buffalo  that  I  can 
blame  myself  with  having  murdered  in  any  one  day. 

Some  years,  as  in  1871,  the  buffalo  appeared  to 
move  northward  in  one  immense  column,  oftentimes 
from  twenty  to  fifty  miles  in  width,  and  of  unknown 
depth  from  front  to  rear.  Other  years  the  northward 
journey  was  made  in  several  parallel  columns,  moving 
at  the  same  rate  and  with  their  numerous  flankers* 
covering  a  width  of  a  hundred  or  more  miles. 

The  line  of  march  of  this  great  spring  migration 
was  not  always  the  same,  though  it  was  confined 
within  certain  hmits.  I  am  informed  by  old  fron- 
tiersmen, that  it  has  not,  within  twenty-five  years, 
crossed  the  -Arkansas  River,  east  of  Great  Bend,  nor 
west  of  Big  Sand  Creek.  The  most  favored  routes 
crossed  the  Arkansas  at  the  mouth  of  Walnut  Creek, 
Pawnee  Fork,  Mulberry  Creek,  the  Cimarron  Cross- 
ing, and  Big  Sand  Creek. 

As  the  great  herd  proceeds  northward  it  i§  con- 
stantly depleted,  numbers  wandering  off  to  the  right 
and  left,  until  finally  it  is  scattered  in  small  herds  far 
and  wide  over  the  vast  feeding-grounds,  where  they 
pass  the  summer. 

When  the  food  in  one  locality  fails,  they  go  to 
another,  and  towards  fall,  when  the  grass  of  the  high 
prairie  becomes  parched  u[)  by  heat  and  drought,  they 
gradually  work  their  way  back  to  the  South,  conceu" 


,^ 


■■>?;;5?;^' 


286 


ORIGIN  OP   THE   BUFFALO. 


,1 


trating  on  the  rich  pastures  of  Texas  and  the  Indian 
Territciy,  whence,  the  same  instinct  acting  on  all, 
they  are  ready  to  start  together  on  the  northward 
march,  as  soon  as  spring  starts  the  grass. 

It  is  but  fair  to  say  that  this  view  is  in  direct  con- 
flict with  the  ideas  of  most  "old  Plainsmen,"  and 
of  the  Indians,  who  positively  aver  that  the  buffalo 
never  returned  south,  and  that  each  year's  herd  was 
composed  of  animals  which  had  never  made  the  jour- 
ney before,  and  would  never  make  it  again.  All 
admit  the  northern  migration,  that  being  too  pro- 
nounced for  any  doubt  or  dispute,  but  refuse  to  admit 
the  southern  or  return  migration.  Thousands  of 
young  calves  were  caught  or  killed  every  spring, 
•proving  that  they  were  produced  during  this  migra- 
tion, and  accompanied  the  herd  northward,  but  because 
the  buffalo  did  not  return  south  in  one  vast  body,  as 
they  went  north,  it  was  stoutly  maintained  that  they 
did  not  go  south  at  all.  The  white  frontier  advocates 
of  the  "  no  return  "  theory  were  easily  confounded  in 
argument,  as  they  could  give  no  reasonable  hypothe- 
sis on  which  to  account  for  the  origin  of  the  vast 
herd  which  yearly  made  its  march  northward.  The 
Indian,  however,  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  Every 
Plains  Indian  firmly  believed  that  the  buffalo  were 
produced  in  countless  numbers  in  a  country  imder 
the  ground;  that  every  spring  the  surplus  swarmed, 
like  bees  from  a  hive,  out  of  great  cave-like  openings 
to  this  country,  which  were  situated  somewhere  in 
the  great  "Llano  Estacado,"  or  Staked  Plain  of 
Texas.  One  Indian  has  gravely  and  solenmly  assured 
me  that  he  has  been  at  those  caverns,  and  with  his 
own  eyes  saw  the  buffalo  coming  out  in  countless 
throngs.     Others  have  told  me  that  their  fathers  or 


V?!" 


■'^"■'tSW^^^tii'SSf^*    ;';'"^----''   -■•■■^■■''■,7 


THE   GREAT  TALL   HUNT. 


287 


uncles,  or  some  other  of  the  old  men  have  been  there. 
In  1870  Stone  Calf  assured  me  that  he  knew  exactly 
where  these  caves  were,  though  he  had  never  seen 
them,  that  the  Good  God  had  provided  this  means 
for  the  constant  supply  of  food  for  the  Indian,  and 
that  however  recklessly  th^.  white  men  might  slaugh- 
ter, they  never  could  exterminate  them.  When  last 
I  saw  him,  the  old  man  was  beginning  to  waver  in 
this  belief,  and  feared  that  the  Bad  God  had  shut  up 
the  openings  and  that  his  people  must  starve. 

During  the  spring  and  summer  months  the  buffalo 
were  but  little  disturbed  by  the  Indians.  Enough 
were  killed  to  enable  all  to  gorge  themselves  at  will, 
but  this  was  done  quietly,  by  crawling  or  stalking. 
The  greatest  care  was  taken  not  to  alarm  and  drive 
the  herds  away  from  the  vicinity  of  the  camp  and 
villages. 

Early  in  October,  when  the  buffalo  is  at  his  fattest, 
preparations  begin  for  the  "great  fall  hunt,"  which 
was  made  for  the  purpose  of  killing  sufficient  animals, 
not  only  to  furnish  dri'^d  meat  for  the  next  winter's 
supply,  but  heavy  skins  for  teepcs,  parfleches,  sad- 
dles, etc.,  and  lighter  ones  for  clothing,  bedding,  and 
for  trade.  Runners  were  sent  out  to  scour  the  coun- 
try for  long  distances,  and  seek  out  the  most  eligible 
situation  for  the  hunting-camp.  It  must  be  near 
water,  of  course;  there  must  be  plenty  of  timber, 
whercfrom  to  cut  poles  for  the  erection  of  the  drying 
scaffolds;  there  must  be  level  ground  for  stretching 
and  drying  the  skin;  and,  above  all,  it  must  be  in  a 
region  abounding  in  game. 

The  spot  being  selected,  the  whole  band  moved  to 
it,  lodges  were  pitched,  scaffolds  erected,  and  every- 


thing put  in  order  for  work. 


The  dog-soldiers  are 


*| 


f''\,S, 


■IP 


288 


PBEPARATIONS. 


.■,S', 


■4 


■i'' 


masters  now,  and  woe  be  to  him  who  disobeys  even 
the  slightest  of  their  democratic  regulations.  If  the 
game  was  not  abundant,  a  few  of  the  most  sagacious 
hunters  were  sent  out,  who,  taking  advantage  of 
winds  or  streams,  set  fire  to  the  grass  in  such  way  as 
to  denude  the  prairies,  excejDt  within  an  area  of  fifteen 
or  twenty  miles  contiguous  to  the  camp.  A  prairie 
fire  on  the  middle  or  northern  Plains  is  not,  as  a  rule, 
violent  enough  to  be  dangerous  to  animal  life.  The 
game  does  not  stampede  before  it,  as  would  appear 
from  the  pictures  in  the  geographies,  but  gets  out  of 
the  way,  and  collects  on  the  unburned  ground  for  the 
food  supply,  thus  greatly  diminishing  the  labor  of  the 
hunt.  Other  conditions  being  favorable,  the  camp  is, 
whenever  possible,  pitched  in  a  broken  country,  for 
the  favorite  and  most  successful  mode  of  killing  lurge 
numbers  is  by  "the  surround,"  and  this  is  only  prac- 
ticable when  hills  and  hollows,  breaks  and  ravines 
render  the  approach  to  the  herd  eas}?,  and  prevent 
other  herds  from  seeing  or  heai'ing  the  commotion 
and  noise  attendant  upon  its  destruction. 

All  being  ready  the  best  hunters  are  out  long 
before  the  dawn  of  day.  If  several  herds  of  buffalo 
are  discovered,  that  one  is  selected  for  slaughter 
whose  position  is  such  that  the  preliminary  manoeu- 
vres of  the  surround  and  the  shouts  and  shots  of  the 
conflict  are  least  likely  to  disturb  the  others.  A 
narrow  valley,  with  many  lateral  ravines,  is  very 
favorable.  If  the  herd  is  on  a  hill,  or  otherwise 
unfavorably  situated,  the  hunters  may  wait  for  it  to 
go  to  water,  or  by  discreet  appearances  at  intervals, 
drive  it  to  the  best  spot.  During  all  this  time  the 
whole  masculine  portion  of  the  band  capable  of  doing 
execution  in  the  coming  slaughter  is  congregated  on 


i 


.iitcSil. 


pppip<"f 


wm 


^^F^m 


''•^.'^  T.-r;'^/\i;-T?Tp-'' ".^^'-'r  j^  -t"*-:.. 


THE   SURROUND. 


289 


horseback,  in  some  adjacent  ravine,  out  of  sight  of 
the  buffalo,  silent  and  trembling  with  suppressed 
excitement.  The  herd  being  in  proper  position,  the 
leading  hunters  tell  off  the  men,  and  send  them  under 
ten.^jorary  captains  to  designated  positions.  Keep- 
ing carefully  concealed,  these  parties  pour  down  the 
valley  to  leeward,  and  si)read  gradually  on  each  flank 
of  the  wind,  until  the  herd  is  surrounded,  except  on 
the  windward  side.  Seeing  that  every  man  is  in  his 
proper  place,  and  all  ready,  the  head  hunter  rapidly 
swings  in  a  party  to  close  the  gap,  gives  the  signal, 
and,  with  a  yell  that  would  almost  wake  the  dead, 
the  whole  line  dashes  and  closes  on  the  game.  The 
buffalo  make  desperate  rushes,  which  are  met  in  every 
direction  by  shouts  and  shots  and  circling  horsemen, 
until,  utterly  bewildered,  they  almost  stand  still  to 
await  their  fate.  In  a  few  moments  the  slaughter  is 
complete.  A  few  may  have  broken  through  the  cor- 
don and  escaped.  These  are  not  pursued  if  other 
herds  are  in  the  vicinity.* 

The  slaughter  completed,  the  "  soldiers  "  return  to 
camp  to  swell  and  strut,  and  vaunt  each  his  own  indi- 
vidual exploits,  while  the  women  skin,  cut  ujd,  and 
carry   to   camp   almost  every   portion   of  the   dead 

*I  have  never  personally  witnessed  a  surrouncl.  The  above  descrip- 
tion is  given  on  the  authority  of  white  men  and  Indians  who  have 
assisted  in  many.  The  dog-soldiers  are  exceedingly  tenacious  of  their 
rights,  and  object  strenuously  to  the  presence  of  any  one  who  may  not  be 
punished  for  violation  of  their  rules.  The  chief  dare  not,  without  their 
counsel,  give  permission  for  any  outsider  to  accompany  the  band  in  a 
surround.  Those  who  belong  to  the  band  by  marriage,  and  a  few  others 
specially  favored,  are  the  only  white  men  who  have  ever  been  eye- 
witnesses to  this  most  exciting  of  Indian  scenes.  A  white  hunter, 
considered  veiy  reliable,  told  me  that  he  had  once  seen  nearly  three 
hundred  buffalo  killed  in  one  surround,  that  the  whole  afiair  occupied 
less  than  ten  minutes  after  the  signal  was  given,  and  that  not  a  single 
buffalo  escaped. 


■'■■.'  ■ 


■M 


% 

•t' 


a;-:  ■ 


T  '. 


hi 

V* 


h 


-*n'  .  '^"f- 


'^•^-'^f'T^'^i 


290 


INDIAJf    COMMUNISM. 


i 
ft' 


animals.  As  soon  as  those  skins  are  stretched,  that 
meat  cut  up  in  flakes  and  put  to  dry,  or  in  other 
words,  when  the  women's  work  is  done,  another  sur- 
round is  made  with  the  Hke  result,  and  this  is  contin- 
ued until  enough  meat  and  skins  are  obtained,  or 
until  cold  weather  drives  the  Indians  to  their  winter 
camp. 

The  weapon  principally  used  in  the  surround  was 
the  revolving  pistol,  though  some  men  used  carbines, 
and  others  bows.  When  bows  and  arrows  alone  were 
used,  each  warrior,  knowing  his  own  arrows,  had  no 
diflficulty  in  positively  identifying  the  buffalo  killed  by 
him.  These  were  his  individual  property  entirely, 
except  that  he  was  assessed  a  certain  projiortion  for 
the  benefit  of  the  widows  or  families  which  had  no 
warrior  to  provide  for  them.  If  arrows  of  dift'- "ent 
men  were  found  in  the  same  dead  buffalo,  the  owner- 
ship was  decided  by  their  position.  If  each  warrior 
inflicted  a  mortal  wound,  the  buffalo  was  divided,  or 
not  unfrequently  given  to  some  widow  with  a  family. 
The  head  hunter  decided  all  these  questions,  but  an 
appeal  could  be  taken  from  his  decision  to  the  gen- 
eral judgment  of  the  dog-soldiers.  Since  the  general 
use  of  firearms  has  rendered  impossible  the  identifi- 
cation of  the  dead  buffalo,  the  Indians  have  become 
more  communistic  in  their  ideas,  and  the  whole  of  the 
meat  and  skins  is  divided  after  some  rule  of  appor- 
tionment of  their  own  invention.  N^one  but  the  lazy 
and  the  jjoor  shots  are  satisfied  with  this  arrange- 
ment, but  it  is  the  only  solution  of  the  problem  left  to 
them. 

In  those  portions  of  the  Plains  where  the  depres- 
sions are  too  slight  to  favor  "the  surround,"  the 
arrangements  are  totally  different.     On  discovering  a 


A  GOOD  BAG. 


291 


herd  the  dog-soldiers  were  deployed  in  a  wide  semi- 
circle, and  approached  the  unsuspecting  animals  at  a 
slow  walk.  When  the  near  aj^proach  of  this  line 
alarmed  the  herd  sufficiently  to  start  it  on  the  gallop, 
a  signal  was  given  and  the  whole  line  dashed  in  at 
once,  pursuing  and  killing  the  frightened  animals  until 
every  pony  was  completely  pumped.  In  such  case  the 
camp  was  a  migratory  one,  and  pitched  as  near  as 
possible  to  the  scene  of  slaughter  until,  the  squaws 
"cleaned  up,"  and  the  meat  was  cured;  then  broken 
up,  and  all  proceeded  in  search  of  another  herd. 

In  favorable  localities  the  Sioux  used  to  kill  great 
numbers  by  first  decoying  a  herd  to  the  desired  posi- 
tion, then  suddenly  appearing  and  driving  the  fright- 
ened animals  over  a  precipice.  The  southern  Plains 
Indians  pursued  the  herds  on  horseback,  killing  Avith 
lances,  which  were  the  more  effective  fiom  being 
noiseless. 

The  buffalo  is  the  most  stupid  of  any  of  the  animal 
creation  of  which  I  have  knowledge.  If  it  sees  or 
smells  no  enemy  a  herd  will  stand  still  until  every 
individual  is  shot  down.  They  will  do  this  some- 
times when  the  enemy  is  in  plain  view.  Once  needing 
fresh  meat  for  my  post  i  sat  down  on  the  ground  on 
the  level  prairie,  in  plain  view  and  within  less  than 
one  hundred  yards  of  a  herd  and  shot  down  two  cows 
and  thirteen  calves,  the  others  not  attempting  to 
leave.  We  had  actually  to  drive  off  the  survivors 
by  shouts  and  waving  our  hats,  before  we  could 
butcher  our  game. 

Probably  from  this  very  stupidity,  it  is  at  some 
times  the  most  easily  stampeded  or  panic-stricken  of 
any  of  the  Plains  animals.  A  herd  which  during  one 
hour  may  stand  and  be  shot  at,  may  the  next  hour 


f 


■r' 


-■-r^f^rt  i'^'T^':  -'.Til'- 


K*'TTj:  '^ft"."'T„- ■"' 


^'. 


'P 


292 


ADVENTURE    ON    BIG   COON. 


rush  headlong  over  the  prairie  in  the  wildest,  blindest 
paroxysm  of  fear,  oftentimes  without  any  assignable 
cause.  This  peculiarity  was  the  cause  of  an  adven- 
ture which  came  near  being  my  last. 

I  was  changing  posts  in  March,  1871,  and  had 
three  or  four  wagons  and  a  small  escort.  One  night 
I  camped  on  Big  Coon  Creek.  It  was  too  early  for 
rain,  and  the  weather  was  cold  and  blustering.  My 
camp  was,  therefore,  nearly  in  the  bed  of  the  creek, 
close  under  the  shelter  of  the  steep,  almost  bluff, 
banks,  which  border  the  stream.  The  nook  in  which 
I  camped  was  small,  and  tents  and  wagons  were 
unusually  crowded  together. 

It  was  late  at  night  and  I  was  in  bed.  The  camp, 
except  one  sentinel,  was  buried  in  sleep;  the  fires 
were  out,  darloiess  and  silence  reigned  supreme.  A 
faint  and  very  distant  roaring  sound  struck  my  ear. 
Thinking  of  water,  I  rushed  out  at  once,  and,  run- 
ning lip  the  side  of  the  bank,  peered  up  the  stream 
into  the  darkness  to  discover  an  approaching  line  of 
foam,  precursor  of  the  flood. 

Just  then  the  wind  brought  the  sound  more  dis- 
tinctly. It  came  from  the  prairie,  not  from  the 
stream,  and  was  approaching.  I  sent  the  sentinel  to 
wake  up  the  corporal  and  other  two  men  of  the  guard, 
who  soon  made  their  appearance  with  their  arms. 

Explaining  to  the  men  in  a  few  words  the  nature 
of  the  danger,  I  warned  them  to  keep  perfectly  cool 
and  to  obey  orders.  By  this  time  the  black  line  of 
the  moving  mass  of  buffalo  was  distinctly  visible.  It 
was  bearing  directly  down  upon  us  with  tremendous 
speed  and  irresistible  force.  We  were  ir  an  excellent 
position  for  the  protection  of  the  camp,  being  directly 
between  it  and  the  buffalo,  and  about  fifty  yards  from 


»« 


r 


■>  'i"/:'! 


*W' 


'>^'-rj*T:'"^<''^-^'''''>*^^-  -■'    ■'■'' ' 


WASTEFUL    SLAUGHTER. 


293 


L 


»« 


*• 


it.  My  only  chance  was  to  split  the  herd.  If  this 
could  be  done,  we  and  the  camp  would  be  saved;  if 
not,  all  would  go  to  destruction  together.  Waiting 
until  the  advance  line  of  buffalo  was  within  thirty 
yards,  the  muskets  were  fired  in  rapid  and  continuous 
succession,  and  we  in  unison  let  out  one  of  the  most 
unearthly  yells  that  ever  split  the  throats  of  five 
badly-frightened  men.  A  few  of  the  leading  animals 
fell  dead,  the  others  swerved  from  the  fire  and  noise; 
the  herd  was  split,  and,  tumbling  in  fright  and  con- 
fusion down  the  bank  on  each  side  of  the  camp,  went 
thundering  and  roaring  into  the  darkness. 

The  danger  from  Indians  and  the  great  distance 
from  market  had  heretofore  protected  the  buffalo  from 
wholesale  slaughter  by  whites,  but  by  1872  the  buf- 
ftilo  region  had  been  penetrated  by  no  less  than  three 
great  railroads,  and  the  Indians  had  been  forced  from 
their  vicinity.  About  this  time  too  it  was  discovered 
that  the  tough,  thick  hide  of  the  buffalo  made  admira- 
ble belting  for  machinery,  and  the  dried  skins  readily 
commanded  sale  at  three  to  four  dollars  each.  The 
news  spread  like  wild-fire,  and  soon  the  Union  Pa- 
cific, Kansas  Pacific,  and  Atchison  Topeka  and  Santa 
Fe  railroads,  swarmed  with  hunters  from  all  parts  of 
the  country,  all  excited  with  the  prospect  of  having  a 
buffalo  hunt  that  would  pay.  By  wagon,  on  horse- 
back, and  a-foot,  the  pot-hunters  poured  in,  and  soon 
the  unfortunate  buffalo  was  without  a  moment's  peace 
or  rest.  Though  hundreds  of  thousands  of  skins 
were  sent  to  market,  they  scarcely  indicated  the 
slaughter.  From  want  of  skill  in  shooting,  .r.d  want 
of  knowledge  in  preserving  the  hides  of  those  slain, 
one  hide  sent  to  market  represented  three,  four,  or 

even  five  dead  buffalo. 

19    . 


i' 


,v 


r 


■'^^:  '?-'   \^ 


,  itli^'^ik  J»»*V-v  »'    4  »4i»«  iU  M,t  U 


.  j&i  ^  „  yy 


■»  ■«,   ^  --}        *  3id 


-f  ^  t  ^\^  .> 


^fW^s^' 


294 


GATHERENG  THE   SPOIL. 


The  merchants  of  the  small  towns  along  the  rail- 
roads were  not  slow  to  take  advantage  of  this  new 
ojiening.  They  furnished  outfits,  arms,  a.mnunition, 
etc.,  to  needy  parties,  and  established  great  trades,  by 
which  many  now  ride  in  their  carriages. 

Tlie  buffiilo  melted  away  like  snow  before  a  sum- 
mer's sun.  Congress  talked  of  interfering,  but  only 
talked.  Winter  and  summer,  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  the  slaughter  went  on. 

The  fall  of  1873  saw  an  immense  accession  of  hunt- 
ers, but  by  this  time  the  local  merchants,  recognizing 
its  iuiportance,  had  got  the  trade  pretty  well  into 
their  own  hands.  Most  of  the  hunting-parties  were 
sent  out  by  them,  and  were  organized  for  even  a 
greater  destruction  of  buffalo,  and  with  more  care  for 
the  proper  preservation  of  tlie  hides  and  meat.  Cen- 
tral dejiots  were  established  in  localities  whei'c  buffalo 
were  plentiful.  Parties  were  sent  out  from  these 
which  every  few  days  brought  back  their  s^ioil. 
Houses  were  built  for  smoking  and  corning  the  mo.it, 
and,  though  the  waste  Avas  still  incalculable,  the 
results  would  be  incredible  but  that  the  figures  are 
taken  from  official  statistics. 

In  1871-2  there  was  apparently  no  limit  to  the 
numbers  of  buffalo. 

In  1872  I  was  stationed  at  Fort  Dodge,  on  the 
Arkansas,  and  was  out  on  many  hunting  excursions. 
Except  that  one  or  two  would  be  shot,  as  occasion 
required,  for  beef,  no  attention  whatever  was  paid  to 
buffalo  (though  our  march  lay  through  countless 
throngs),  unless  there  were  strangers  with  us.  In 
the  ftill  of  that  year  three  English  gentlemen  went 
out  with  me  for  a  short  hunt,  and  in  their  excitement 
bagged  more   buffalo   than  would  have  supplied,  a 


-I 


■-1  -  -1^*-  •jviii  i-tVuii  fttii 


■,.,  .iIm  **,,  ,»i«.*(*«aiai«j*itoya*i«*»W;v'- 


I 


t  *m 


'^-rm 


BARBAROUS  HUXTIXG. 


295 


brigade.  From  within  a  few  miles  of  the  post  om' 
pleasure  was  actually  marred  by  their  numbers,  as 
they  interfered  with  our  pursuit  of  other  game. 

In  the  fall  of  1873  I  went  with  some  of  the  same 
gentlemen  over  the  same  ground.  Where  there  were 
myriads  of  buffalo  the  year  before,  there  were  now 
"  myriads  of  carcasses.  The  air  was  foul  with  sicken- 
ing stench,  and  the  vast  plain,  which  only  a  short 
twelvemonth  before  teemed  with  animal  life,  was  a 
dead,  solitary,  putrid  desert.  We  were  obliged  to 
travel  southeast  to  the  Cimarron,  a  distance  of  nearly 
ninety  miles,  before  we  found  a  respectable  herd. 
Even  there  we  found  the  inevitable  hunter. 

In  October,  1874,  I  was  on  a  short  trip  to  the 
buffalo  region  south  of  Sidney  barracks.  A  few 
buffalo  were  encountered,  but  there  seemed  to  be 
more  hunters  than  buffalo.  The  country  south  of  the 
South  Platte  is  without  water  for  many  miles,  and  the 
buffalo  must  satisfy  their  thirst  at  the  river.  Every 
approach  of  the  herd  to  water  was  met  by  rifle  bullets, 
and  one  or  more  buffalo  bit  the  dust.  Care  was  taken 
not  to  permit  the  others  to  drink,  for  then  they  would 
not  return.  Tortured  with  thirst  the  poor  brutes 
approached  again  and  again,  always  to  be  met  by  bul- 
lets, always  to  lose  some  of  their  number. 

In  places  favorable  to  such  action,  as  the  south 
bank  of  the  Platte,  a  herd  of  buffalo  has,  by  shooting 
at  it  by  day,  and  by  lighting  fires  and  firing  guns  at 
night,  been  kept  from  water  for  four  days,  or  until  it 
has  been  entirely  destroyed.  In  many  places  the  val- 
ley was  offensive  from  the  stench  of  putrefying  car- 
casses. 

During  the  three  years  1872-73-74,  at  least  five 
millions  of  buffalo  were  slaughtered  for  their  hides. 


fi- 


'■'V 


^1 


>..'.«S.ija,S..-! 


C^-lh:^.'A  ^i^lt 


296 


SLAUOHTEBED  FOB  THEIB  HIDES. 


■■tr  ■ 

-  4y 


This  slaughter  was  all  in  violation  of  law,  and  in. 
contravention  of  solemn  treaties  made  with  the  In- 
dians, but  it  was  the  duty  of  no  special  person  to  put 
a  stop  to  it.  The  Indian  Bureau  made  a  feeble  elfort 
to  keep  the  white  hunters  out  of  the  Indian  Teri'itory, 
but  soon  gave  it  up,  and  these  parties  sjjread  all  over 
the  country,  slaughtering  the  buffalo  under  the  very  ' 
noses  of  the  Indians. 

Ten  years  ago  the  Plains  Indians  had  an  ample 
supply  of  food,  and  could  support  life  comfortably 
without  the  assistance  of  the  government.  ^NTow 
everything  is  gone,  and  they  are  reduced  to  the  con- 
dition of  paupers,  without  food,  shelter,  clothing,  or 
any  of  those  necessaries  of  life  which  cama  from  the 
buffalo;  and  without  friends,  except  the  harpies,  who, 
under  the  guise  of  friendship,  feed  upon  them. 


I 


;*'-'Jl^^  Ki;.U"/?;.;;f^^>U'?*^^:lya,*.':iiji^^ 


AJilL^i^' 


*■•*§** 


.      ^ 


1 


«  t* 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

CLOTHING,    FINERY  AND    PERSONAL    ADORNMENT   OP 

INDIANS. 

The  Bi-eoch-cloth  —  Donning  a  "Biled"  Shirt— IIow  Litllo  Raven 
'•Received"  —  '•Fixed  up"  for  Wliite  Company  —  Ludicrous  Com- 
binations —  Uemariiablo  Appearance  of  Turliey  Leg  in  Council  — 
Tlie  Green  Veil  and  Stove-Pipe  Hat— Bugbears  of  Indian  Life  — 
A  Disgusted  Warrior  —  Ceremonial  Costumes  —  Fringe  Made  of 
Scalp  Locks  —  Dressing  the  Hair  — The  '•Pig-tail"  Style  — The 
Receptacle  for  Odds  and  Ends  — Female  Attire  — The  Buckskin  Skirt 
and  Jacket  — The  Kirtle  of  Fringe  —  How  Indians  Paint  their  Bodies 
—  Bracelets  and  Beadwork  — A  Good  Story  — The  Captain's  False 
Teeth  — A  Cheyenne  Chief's  Glass  Eye  — Terror  Caused  by  its 
Removal  —  Kicked  out  of  Camp  as  Doubtful  "  Medicine." 


HEN  at  home,  or  alone  with  his 
own  people,  the  ordinary  summer 
dress  of  the  male  Indian  is  the 
breech-cloth,  leggings  and  moc- 
casins. 

The  breech-cloth  is  the  simplest 
of  all  garments.  A  string  is  tied 
around  the  waist,  one  end  of  a 
piece  of  cloth,  five  to  eight  feet  long  by 
four  inches  wide,  is  drawn  under  the  string  in  front, 
passed  between  the  legs,  and  under  the  string  behind. 
One  loose  end  forms  a  flap  in  front  reaching  nearly 
to  the  knees,  the  other  hangs  behind  like  a  tail, 
sometimes  dragging  the  ground.  This  is  all  that  the 
Indian  thinks  necessary  for  modesty  or  decency. 

297 


■i 


■Vv'j 


pAft     ML     it  */>     ^.x^<^   ^t 


^     ^t  ^'i   *ft 


,r^u,lt,-^S  ^i.HM. 


Ji/i*-  tv* 


PPI 


wm^ 


'■S?>'W: 


••'■^w^-i'**;  5-1. 


m 


298 


now  LITTLE   RAVEN  EECEIVED. 


Dress  is  for  display,  not  for  use.  I  have  already 
spoken  of  the  "  imitative  faculty  "  of  the  Indian.  It 
secures  him  frequent  trouble.  The  very  commonplace 
dress  of  the  civiHzed  Avhites  is  not  at  all  to  his  taste. 
It  gives  10  opportunity  for  display  and  is  most  con- 
fining and  uncomfortable.  Yet,  with  a  heroism 
worthy  the  martyrs  of  old,  he  incases  himself  in  this 
Pandora's  box  of  ills,  whenever  he  expects  t^  come  in 
contact  with  a  white  man  of  any  position. 

I  one  day  drove  up  to  a  field  where  some  Indians 
were  at  work  ploughing,  etc.  They  were  dressed  in 
breeeh-cloth  and  moccasins.  As  I  came  near,  an 
Indian  ran  off  from  the  party  towards  a  wagon  on 
the  other  side  of  the  field.  Wlien  I  had  talked  a 
little  while  with  the  workmen,  I  drove  off,  and  it  was 
only  afterwards  that  I  discovered  that  I  had  given 
almost  mortal  offence  to  the  chief  man.  Recognizing 
me,  he  ran  off  to  his  wagon,  encased  himself  in  what 
Josh  Billings  would  call  a  "  biled  "  shirt,  pants,  coat, 
hat,  and  even  boots,  only  to  find  me  gone  on  his 
return. 

This  sensitiveness  is  not  common.  I  one  day  went 
on  business  to  the  camp  of  Little  Raven,  Oh-nas-tie, 
the  head  chief  of  the  Arrapahoes;  in  his  youth  a 
skilful  and  renowned  warrior,  in  his  old  age  a  natural 
gentleman.  He  was  at  work  in  the  field,  but  being 
sent  for,  soon  made  his  appearance.  His  dress  con- 
sisted only  of  a  shirt  and  a  pair  of  moccasins.  He 
was  streamhig  with  perspiration  and  covered  with 
dirt,  but  he  met  me  with  his  usual  courtesy^  and 
without  the  slightest  apology  for  his  dress  or 
condition. 

The  male  Indian  has  now  three  styles  of  dress. 
In  his  own  home,  or  among  themselves,  it  is  simply 


1 


-/^ 


liiiPi"if 


^^p 


^■;'sr;^ 


TURKEY    LEG  IN   COUNCIL. 


299 


breech-clotli  and  moccasins,  except  that  when  visiting 
he  now  wears  a  wide  cotton  mantle,  not  unlike  a  sheet, 
enveloping  nis  whole  person,  frequently  even  his 
head,  leaving  only  the  face  exposed.  It  is  only  among 
the  extremely  poor  that  we  may  look  for  the  primi- 
tive fashions  en  rigueur,  and  even  in  his  most  natural 
and  poverty-stricken  condition  he  is  so  excessively 
fond  of  finery,  that  he  ilvvays  has  something  extra  for 
grand  occasion':,  a  few  feathers  tied  in  the  hair,  a 
ring  or  two  of  brass  wire  for  the  ears,  or  wrists  and 
ankles,  —  anything  to  make  a  show. 

The  second  st3iG  i*  that  which  he  adopts  when 
visiting  or  receiving  visits  from  white  men,  and  some 
article  of  white  men's  clothing  is  indispensable. 
There  is  no  idea  of  incongruity  or  unfitness.  AVhat- 
ever  the  white  man  wears,  the  Indian  will  wear  if  he 
can  get  it.  He  sees  the  letters  on  the  cap  of  a  soldier, 
and  being  ignorant  of  their  meaning,  assumes  that 
they  are  worn  for  ornament.  He  picks  up  a  dilapi- 
dated old  hat  from  the  dump  pile  of  a  military  post, 
covers  it  all  over  with  broken  crossed  sabres,  bent 
bugles,  fragments  of  letters;  and  putting  it  on  his 
head,  struts  around  with  quiet  complaisance,  per- 
fectly assured  that  he  is  making  a  great  sensation, 
and  gratified  at  every  notice  taken  of  him. 

I  was  present  at  probably  the  most  important 
council  of  late  years,  between  whites  and  Indians. 
Turkey  Leg,  a  Cheyenne  chief  of  considerable  prom- 
inence, came  into  the  council  lodge,  a  buifalo  robe 
tightly  folded  around  him,  though  it  was  warm 
weather.  Over  his  head  and  face  he  wore  an 
ordinary  green  veil.  Over  that,  perched  on  the  very 
top  of  his  head,  and  at  least  two  sizes  too  small  for 
him,  was  a  tall  straight-bodied  stove-pipe  hat.     When 


AV 


r^ 
> 


T"~0 


i/ft 


I'l    'l/i^\m  - 


^.kK:i:!^^.:lii'V^a^^\-,iJAi-:t,.t  'JTi'-i.  ^:VL'a.Ki_i:.iij-i;»i*':-¥:';.jl,-i.:i<rii'. 


fcf  "'•■• 


300        INDIAN  LOVE  OF  WHITE  MAn's  DEESS. 


mi      / 


he  rose  to  speak,  he  retained  the  hat  and  veil, 
but  dropped  his  buffalo  robe,  disclosing  his  other 
apparel,  which  consisted  of  a  calico  shirt  and  pair  of 
moccasins. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  conceive  of  any  absurdity 
or  ridiculousness  that  is  not  constantly  perpetrated 
by  Indians  in  their  desire  to  show  themselves  off  in 
white  men's  clothing.  I  have  never  yet  seen  an  Indian 
of  what  I  call  the  wild  tribes  with  a  complete  dress; 
even  when  they  have  the  means  and  opportunity, 
they  seem  to  prefer  to  take  this  innovation  by  instal- 
ments. 

Last  year  I  met  Little  Chief,  and  the  other  Northern 
Cheyennes,  on  their  return  from  Washington.  They 
were  riding  through  southern  Kansas,  en  route  to 
their  agency,  and  everywhere;  they  created  a  sensation. 
A  brawny  buck  with  white  shirt,  elaborate  necktie 
and  felt  hat,  had  buckskin  leggings,  and  moccasins, 
and  held  over  his  head  a  lady's  parasol.  Another, 
buttoned  to  the  chin  in  a  thick  coat,  had  his  nether 
extremities  covered  in  the  same  way,  was  without  a 
hat,  but  fanned  himself  incessantly  with  a  huge 
gaudily  painted  Chinese  fan.  Not  one  had  a  full  suit 
of  civilized  clothing,  and  if  each  had  studied  his  "  get 
up,"  for  a  month,  he  could  not  have  fitted  himself 
out  more  ridiculously. 

It  is  the  same  with  all  wdld  Indians.  Though  each 
thinks  some  article  of  civilized  attire  indispensable  to 
his  proj^er  appearance  before  white  men,  he  is  per- 
fectly content  with  one.  One  will  surmount  his 
Indian  dress  by  a  hat  ornamented  witli  feathers. 
A  neither  will  have  a  gaudy  necktie,  but  no  shirt, 
another  a  vest  buttoned  to  the  chin,  supplemented  by 
breech-cloth  and  moccasins.    No  more  motley,  ridic- 


r 


I  k 


K,ny.i  --..k-: 


....  .*■»?.- .'A.-.-  * 


\'.a»a*.yr: 


ti^  'i*-  ...tf»'.''^t  '.-.a^.lf.^, ■»*...- 


BUGBEARS   OF  INDIAN  LIFE. 


301 


t    i 


I 


ulous,  overdressed,  half-dressed,  and  undressed  crowd 
can  be  found  in  the  world,  than  a  party  of  Indians 
"  fixed  up  "  to  receive  white  company. 

Boots  and  pantaloons  are  the  bugbears  of  Indian 
life,  and  it  is  extremely  rare  even  at  the  present  day, 
that  an  Indian  can  be  induced  to  wear  either.  AYhen 
a  man  receives  a  pair  of  trowsers  as  his  share  of 
the  issues  of  clothing  by  the  Indian  Bureau,  he  turns 
them  over  to  a  wife,  who  cuts  out  the  whole  seat 
and  front,  leaving  the  legs  from  half-way  above  the 
knee  attached  to  the  waistband  by  a  piece  of  cloth 
two  inches  wide  passing  up  the  other  side  of  the  thigh 
and  hip,  thus  making  for  her  lord  a  serviceable  pair 
of  leggings,  and  having  enough  cloth  left  over  for  a 
pair  for  herself. 

If  the  Indian  is  so  unlucky  as  to  draw  a  pair  of 
boots  or  shoes,  he  as  a  rule  immediately  sells  them  for 
whatever  he  can  get. 

In  the  fall  of  1879, 1  was  near  an  Agency  at  the 
time  of  issue  of  the  merchandise  by  the  Agent.  I 
was  not  present  at  the  issue,  but  some  hours  after  it 
was  over,  I  was  asked  by  my  servant  to  come  out  and 
see  an  Indian  who  wanted  to  sell  a  coat.  I  complied 
and  found  an  Indian  on  horseback,  with  a  thick 
warm  coat  across  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  which  he 
had  that  morning  received  as  his  share  of  the  mer- 
chandise. He  held  it  up  at  once  and  proposed 
"  swap." 

AVilling  to  ascertain  the  value  from  the  Indian 
standpoint  of  this  justice  or  benevolence  of  the  Indian 
Department,  I  asked  "how  much?" 

"Fifty  cents  "  he  replied. 

"What  will  you  do  with  the  fifty  cents?"  I 
asked. 


7, 


\n 


L^..<y  i'X-.Jih'i-Li"\l-  -rv 


6'.<..fi^'\>}.u:..;.A  ■  .J~.L ^^^■:ih 


^'i:f\1-i'- 


?'^- 


302 


CEREMONIAL   CCSTUMES. 


m 


"Get  chuck,*  heap  hungry,"  lie  answered,  lay- 
ing his  hands  on  his  stomach  and  making  a  frightful 
grimace. 

The  coat  was  worth  at  least  six  dollars.  I  tried  to 
impress  upon  him  its  value  as  an  article  of  wearing 
apparel,  and  to  explain  that  he  would  need  it  in 
winter.  His  only  answer  was  a  look  of  infinite  dis- 
gust. While  we  were  talking  another  Indian  rode 
up.  After  a  few  moments'  conversation  in  their  own 
language,  the  new-comer  pulled  out  half-a-dollar,  the 
coat  was  handed  over,  and  each  rode  off  apparently 
satisfied. 

The  Indian's  third  dress  is  that  reserved  for  gi-and 
occasions  of  ceremony  among  themselves.  On  it  he 
has  expended  a  lifetime  of  thought,  and  all  his  inge- 
nuity, and  to  its  elaboration  have  been  brought  all 
the  skill  and  patience  of  his  wives.  Considering  the 
materials  with  which  the  Indians  have  to  work,  many 
of  these  dresses  are  very  beautiful.  Buckskin  is  the 
groundwork  of  all,  but  the  garments  themselves  vary 
infinitely,  according  to  the  taste  and  means  of  the 
owner.  Some  are  made  of  skin  so  fine,  thin,  and 
white,  as  almost  to  look  like  satin;  others  orna- 
mented with  equal  elaboration,  are  of  smoked  skins, 
thick  and  dark-colored. 

The  upper  garment  of  this  gala  dress  generally 
takes  the  form  of  a  tunic,  but  varies  in  cut  and  make 
from  the  wide  pajama  of  the  Orient,  to  the  close- 
fitting  hunting-shirt  of  our  white  borderers.  It  is 
painted,  beaded,  worked  with  porcupine  quills  and 
colored  rrrasses:  the  seams  marked  with  delicate 
fringes  of  deer  or  antelope  skin,  not  unfrequently 

•  Clmck  is  a  word  in  almost  univorsal  use  among  the  Plf  ins  Indians 
of  all  tribes  and  languages.    It  means  food. 


i    k 


'-%»,',f-::„--.'U^i'",-i-.'>Jt.»i^--:i.  ^i\ .' x.^-j.'-^r*'-L:^'h :.^A'i\  ''.i^'i^ii  ■■■j:.^:.-L> 


1  .^^^\i\\..^:^^.:!iJJ}il' 


wmmsm 


W^^^ff^flffKfllM 


INDIAN   DRESS-COMBINATIONS. 


303 


over  a  foot  in  length.  Occasionally  some  successful 
warrior,  who  has  a  plethora  of  scalps,  cuts  one  or 
more  into  narrow  strips,  and  fringes  his  coat  with  the 
hr.ir  of  his  enemies.  The  leggings  are  generally  of 
much  the  same  shape  and  cut,  but  vary  in  their  orna- 
mentation quite  as  much  as  the  tunic.  The  moc- 
casins of  each  tribe  differ  in  shape.  Those  for  show 
are  often  so  overloaded  with  ornamentation  and  bead- 
work,  as  to  be  utterly  useless  for  service.  The 
buffalo-robe  cloak  is  a  marvel  of  elaborate  and  pains- 
taking labor.  Porcupine  quills,  dyed,  of  various 
colors,  are  stitched  to  the  flesh  side  by  sincAVS,  in 
patterns  of  different  designs,  often  quite  striking  if  not 
artistic  in  effect.  Sometimes  the  inside  of  the  I'obe 
will  be  covered  with  elaborate  paintings,  illustrative 
of  the  combats  and  memorable  actions  of  the  owner. 
At  other  times,  the  illustrations  are  mythological  or 
purely  fanciful,  other  times  again  they  are  of  such  a 
nature  as  cannot  be  described  or  depicted.  The 
Indian  idea,  whether  of  man  or  woman,  is  essentially 
obscene,  and  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  many  of  their 
most  successful  artistic  efforts  have  been  on  such 
subjects  as  will  not  bear  rej^etition.  The  needlework 
ornamentation  is  always  done  by  the  women,  the 
paintings,  sometimes  by  the  women,  but  generally  by 
the  man  himself,  especially  Vtrhen  picturing  his  own 
exploits. 

It  is  extremely  rare  to  see  an  Indian,  even  though 
following  the  plough  in  his  breech-cloth  and  mocca- 
sins, who  has  not  bestowed  some  thought  and  pains  on 
the  dressing  of  his  hair.  Indian  men  of  all  the  wild 
tribes  allow  their  hair  to  grow,  and  as  almost  all 
Indian  hair  is  exactly  alike  in  color  and  texture,  their 
special  pride  is  in  its  length.     The  central  and  north- 


»^n 


m 


?k 


tk% 


*< 

Ki.1 


.•II 


304 


DRESSING  THE   HAIR. 


em  Plains  tribes  part  their  hair  in  the  middle,  and 
confine  it  in  two  long  tails,  one  over,  or  just  behind, 
each  ear.  These,  pieced  out  with  buffalo  or  horse- 
hair to  make  them  longer,  are  wrajDped  with  a  long 
and  narrow  piece  of  cloth,  or  beaver  skin,  cut  in 
strips,  the  folds  of  which  furnish  receptacles  of  which 
the  Indian  makes  great  use.  I  have  often  been  sur- 
prised to  see  an  Indian  pnll  out  from  his  hair  a  letter, 
or  a  bundle  of  matches,  or  a  stick  for  cleaning  his 
jDipc;  anything  that  can  be  carried  in  a  narrow  com- 
pass is  sure  to  go  in  his  tails. 

The  Comanches  and  Kiowas  comb  the  hair  back 
from  the  face  and  plait  it,  with  additions,  in  a  single 
long  tail,  ornamented  with  silver  or  plated  buckles, 
and  often  reaching  neai'ly  to  the  ground.  These 
tails  arc  untied  scarce  oftener  than  once  a  year,  the 
combing  and  brushing  being  habitually  confined  to 
that  portion  of  hair  immediately  on  the  head.  This, 
howc  vcYy  receives  great  attention,  and  the  warrior's 
hair  is  usually  quite  sleek  and  shiny  from  grease  and 
frequent  brushing. 

They  make  a  brush  for  themselves  from  the  leaves 
of  the  soap-weed,  or,  far  south,  of  the  Spanish 
bayonet. 

There  is  no  firticle  of  dress  or  adornment  so 
highly  prized  'iS  the  eagles'  quills,  and  the  kill- 
ing of  an  eagle  by  an  Indian  is  an  event  for  as 
much  congratulation  and  rejoicing  among  his  fiimily 
and  friends,  as  an  inheritance  of  a  fortune  by  a 
white  man.  Every  feather  is  utilized.  The  wing- 
quills  go  to  the  Indian's  jDcrsonal  adornment,  or 
are  sold,  bringing,  sometimes  as  much  as  two  dol- 
lars each.  The  tail  is  cut  off,  pressed  into  fan 
shaj^e,  worth  at  least  a  pony,  being  a  favorite  orna- 


»» 


1 


..  ..':jift'»'j'\i'.-:  .^■jdl  A^.A^ik,  '^-it-. 


;,.-vt^',  .♦.->;..  M^. 


msssma-sssms 


^s:^ 


IMPORTANCE   OF  EAGLES'   QUILLS. 


305 


ment  for  the  totem,  and  of  use  as  a  fan  at  the  same 
time.* 

The  head  is  cnt  off,  skinned  and  stuffed,  and  is  so 
much  prized  as  an  ornament  by  warriors,  that  a 
shrewd  white  man,  who  some  years  ago  conceived  the 
idea  of  sending  to  the  states  for  some  glass  eagles'- 
eyes,  reaped  ample  reward  for  his  wit,  getting  a  pony 
for  eaph  pair  of  eyes.  They  are  more  common  now, 
and  the  price  reasonable. 

Ko  warrior,  who  aspires  to  distinction,  ever  thinks 
himself  fitted  out  until  he  has  some  article  of  head- 
gear ornamented  with  eagles'  quills.  A  poor  fellow 
may  have  but  one,  but  it  is  his  warrant  of  respect- 
ability. The  happy  few  of  each  tribe  who  have  war- 
bonnet,  shield,  lance  and  gun-cover,  all  ornamented 
with  these  quills,  value  them  as  a  millionaire  his 
estate,  and  they  serve  exactly  the  same  purpose,  often 
pushing  forward  a  man  who  has  no  other  claim  to 
distinction. 

None  of  the  finery  of  the  Indian  can  be  washed, 
or  otherwise  cleaned,  and  as  one  suit  frequently  has 
to  last  a  lifetime,  its  condition,  in  the  later  years  of  its 
usefulness,  may  be  imagined. 

Catlin  describes  among  the  Indians  with  whom  he 
came  in  contact,  a  character  which  it  has  never  been 
my  lot  to  encounter,  —  an  Indian  dandy,  vain,  effemi- 
nate, and  devoting  his  life  and  energy  solely  to  the 
adornment  of  his  person. 

All  Indians  are  given  to  great  elaboration  of  dress 

*  The  Golden  Eagle  is  very  plenty  on  the  Plains  in  November.  Num- 
bers are  killed  by  the  Indians,  and  in  some  seasons  the  market  is  so  glut- 
ted that  a  whole  stuffed  skin  may  be  purchased  for  two  or  three  dollars. 
Unfortunately,  they  are  always  shot  with  ritlo  bullets,  and  tiie  skins  so 
badly  handled  in  removing  and  stuffing,  that  they  are  wortliless  as  speci- 
mens. 


,WM 


;»*;fc 


^.i:tj^^^.i^^.ti,^<i^ 


"^/•IXftl^ 


306 


catlin's  dandy. 


jfjl 


on  occasions  of  display,  and  this  is  regulated  solely 
by  the  taste  and  wealth  of  the  wearer.  Some  dress 
much  more  than  others,  but  I  have  doubts  if  any  such 
character  as  Catlin's  dandy  could  have  place  or 
standing  among  the  Plains  tribes,  where  manhood  is 
the  first  requisite  to  a  man. 

At  the  age  when  every  man,  civilized  or  savage,  is 
naturally  something  of  a  dandy,  the  Indian  is  poor, 
waiting,  watching,  and  hoping  for  an  opportunity  to 
increase  his  store,  by  stealing  the  horses  of  somebody 
else.  Whatever  his  disposition,  he  has  not  the  means 
to  be  Catlin's  dandy. 

Among  the  Plains  tribes  there  is  a  species  of 
dandy,  but  he  is  entirely  different  from  the  idle,  effem- 
inate animal  described  by  Catlin.  He  is  generally  the 
son  of  a  rich  and  indulgent  father,  lives  with  the  "old 
man,"  and  is  talked  of  as  one  having  great  expecta- 
tions. He  is  a  great  catch,  therefore  unmarried;  he 
dresses  a  great  deal,  is  consequently  a  "  lady-killer," 
but  he  must  back  up  all  this  effeminacy  by  a  first- 
class  reputation  for  courage  and  endurance,  and  be  as 
ready  to  fight  as  to  flirt.  Nothing  less  than  an  Indian 
*'  Claude  Melnotte"  can  be  a  dandy  on  the  Plains. 

In  the  wilder  tribes,  the  ordinary  dress  of  the 
women  of  the  present  day  is  a  skirt  of  buckskin, 
more  or  less  ornamented,  reaching  from  the  waist  to 
half  way  below  the  knee.  The  upper  dress  is  a  short 
jacket  of  the  same  material,  but  this  is  being  rai)idly 
replaced  by  more  civilized  cov^ering,  the  women  of 
those  tribes  in  contact  with  Mexicans,  soon  learning 
to  cover  the  head  and  body  with  a  scarf  or  reboza, 
and  those  who  sometimes  see  a  white  woman,  taking 
naturally  to  the  shawl.  The  women  of  nearly  all  the 
Plains  tribes,  now  wear  a  calico  dress  (made  by  llicm- 


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Squaws    Dress  -  Musical    Instruments,  Cradle,  &c. 

PHOTOGRAPHED    AND    PAINTED    FROM    /he"  ORIGINAL  OBJECTS    EXPRESSLY  FOR    THIS  WORK. 

A     LI     WtJHTIlINUTO.N    it  CO..    Pl'HUIHHI-:  H  »«  .   IIAtlTF-OH  1  >.  t  MtNN'. 


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FEMALE   ATTIRE. 


307 


W 


selves,  and  not  cut  by  a  fashionable  dressmaker), 
reaching  from  the  neck  to  the  ankles,  and  very  like 
the  camisal  of  the  New  Orleans  French  women. 
They  wear  leggings  and  moccasins,  but  no  stockings. 
The  shawl  is  worn  universally  over  the  head,  after  the 
style  of  the  reboza,  and  the  greatest  effort  at  display 
made  by  the  women  is  in  this  article,  each  trying  to 
outdo  her  friend  in  variety  and  brilliancy  of  its  color- 
ing. When  not  actually  at  household  work,  the 
shawl  is  always  worn.  The  woman,  vcn  in  her  own 
lodge,  never  stops  to  talk  to  a  visitor,  until  she  has 
first  put  on  her  brightest  shawl.  It  is  worn  every- 
where outside  the  lodge,  riding,  walking,  visiting  each 
other,  or  going  to  the  Agency  or  a  military  post; 
even  in  the  dance  it  is  indispensable,  and  never 
removed.  The  natural  inference  to  be  drawn  from 
this  close  and  constant  envelopment  by  the  shawl  is 
that  the  other  clothing  will  not  bear  inspection.  It 
is,  however,  only  a  fashion  or  custom  handed  down 
from  the  days  when  clothing  was  scanty.  When  out 
visiting,  the  women  of  the  Cheyennes  and  Arapa- 
hoes  dress  quite  as  well  as  the  poorer  class  of  whites. 
Under  the  shawl  is  a  nice  calico  dress,  a  cape  of  the 
same  material  falling  over  the  shoulders.  Around 
the  waist  is  a  broad  leather  girdle,  very  similar  to 
that  so  fashionable  among  white  ladies  a  year  or  two 
ago,  but  ornamented  with  a  close  continuation  of 
round  pieces  of  silver  or  tin.  From  one  side  depends 
a  long  strap  of  leather,  similarly  ornamented,  like  the 
fan-holder  of  our  ladies.  Their  ears  are  pierced  with 
one,  two,  three  or  more  holes,  in  the  outer  cartilage, 
in  each  of  which  is  an  ear-ring,  generally  of  twenty- 
five-cent  jewelry,  but  for  which  the  trader  may  have 
received  a  horse.    Around  the  neck  is  an  elaborate, 


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:V    -.!,,.,,',.*, 


308 


KIRTLE   OF  FRINGE. 


JWK 


and  sometimes  handsome,  necklace  of  beads.  They 
are  dressed  well,  though  milike  civilized  ladies,  they 
hide  it  all. 

In  some  of  the  far  western  tribes,  especially  those 
along  the  Colorado  River,  the  only  dress  of  the 
women  consists  of  a  short  kirtle  of  fringe.  Innu- 
merable frmgey  of  bark  are  attached  to  a  band  twenty 
or  thirty  feet  long.  This  is  wound  around  and  around 
the  waist,  the  loose  fringes  making  a  thick  mat  reach- 
ing nearly  to  the  knees. 

I  was  told  by  an  old  settler  of  Yuma  that  when  he 
went  there  years  before,  though  the  men  wore  the 
breech-cloth  and  moccasins,  the  women  were  in  "puris 
naturalibus,"  their  unadorned  beauty  being  "set  off" 
only  by  soiue  patches  of  paint,  and  a  few  rings  of 
brass  wire  on  fingers,  arms  and  legs.  He  stated  fur- 
ther that  a  party  of  Mormons  had  been  attacked  by 
the  Indians,  and  all  killed  except  one  woman.  She 
was  kept  in  captivity,  and  every  article  of  her  cloth- 
ing taken  to  adorn  the  persons  of  her  male  captors. 
Her  feminine  instincts  revolting  against  this,  she  made 
such  kirtles  as  I  have  described,  but  was  obliged  to 
teach  the  Indian  women  to  wear  them  before  being 
herself  permitted  to  benefit  by  her  own  modest  in- 
genuity. 

Until  within  about  ten  years  the  women  of  the 
Wichita  Indians  wore  in  summer  no  covering  what- 
ever on  the  body  above  the  waist.  Even  on  the  most 
full-dress  occasion  a  string  of  beads  or  wampum  was 
all  that  fashion  or  modesty  required. 

At  home  the  clothing  of  the  children  is  "nothing 
to  speak  of,"  but  al'  have  a  gala-dress,  for  visiting 
and  grand  occasions,  on  which  the  mothers  have 
expended  all  their  taste  and  skill.     Some  are  eiabo- 


"  '       'iK}^ff!TSfin*:\y.'^''^'^i'-«i i^-^rv >••[.  .?**■.-- 


rri-  *  -    ■  -       ■^•■^  -I,  -.■"-/;. 


BODY-PAINTING   AND   JEWELRY. 


309 


rately  ornamented,  and  quite  valuable.  One  of  the 
most  so  is  a  scarf  of  ordinary  Indian  cloth,  orna- 
mented with  elk's-teeth.  A&--thesc  animals  are  now 
extremely  rai*e  on  the  Southern  Plains,  this  scarf 
could  scarcely  be  bought  for  less  than  two  j)onies 
(fift}^  to  sixty  dollars). 

Among  the  wild  tribes  every  man,  woman  and 
child  is  more  or  less  painted.  From  the  miserable 
Digger,  who  thinks  himself  jierfectly  dressed  when 
his  naked  body  is  smeared  with  colored  earth,  to  the 
wealthy  chief,  Avhose  contact  Avith  whites  enables  him 
to  give  himself  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  no  Indian, 
whatever  may  be  his  actual  apparel,  considers  him- 
self in  full  dress,  unless  he  is  painted.  This  rule  has 
some  exceptions  among  the  better  class  of  the  Indians 
of  the  Territory,  and  some  of  the  prominent  chiefs  of 
the  wild  tribes,  as  "Spotted  Tail,"  "Ouray,"  and 
others,  who  follow  the  "  white  man's  road,"  and  have 
ceased  entirely  to  wear  paint. 

All  Indians  arc  very  fond  of  jewelry,  and  wear  it 
in  great  profusion.  All  Avear  finger-rings  of  brass  or 
silver,  sometimes,  on  occasions  of  ceremony,  in  such 
profusion  as  seriously  to  interfere  with  the  use  of  the 
hands.  Both  sexes  wear  bracelets,  or  hoops  of  brass 
on  their  arms,  sometimes  eight  or  ten  on  one  arm, 
and  generally  above  the  elbow.  Ear-rings  arc  worn 
almost  universally.  The  holes  for  insertion  are  made 
w'th  a  knife,  and  usually  in  the  upper  cartilage,  and 
it  is  not  at  all  unusual  to  see  two,  three,  or  more  holes 
in  each  ear.  I  have  seen  an  Indian  Avith  seA^eral  huge 
brass  rings  in  each  ear,  each  supporting  by  connec- 
ticms  of  bead- work,  shells,  stones,  pieces  of  bone,  etc., 
until  each  pendant  was  a  foot  long,  the  Avhole  Aveigh- 
ing  not  less  than  half  a  pound.     Of  course  the  cars 

20 


,,if,  .-;■,•..--.,,-..:■ 


'^.^i^^Si^SiSi^iJi.iai^^ 


'■'^^msmi^^^S^^^^' 


*!fT^^Tl^^^T3'''^?7^» 


r.  if 


1'^ 


310 


FALSE    TEETH   AND   GLASS  EYE. 


arc  dragged  out  of  aM  shape,  enlarged  to  twiee  their 
natural  size,  and  much  torn,  occasionally  almost  en- 
tirely torn  off. 

Indians  have  remarkably  good  teeth,  and  rarely 
lose  one  except  by  accident.  From  army  surgeons  I 
hasT  heard  of  a  case  or  two  of  toothache,  but  I  have 
never  known  an  Indian  to  have  a  tooth  extracted. 

'Not  very  long  ago  an  officer  of  the  army  (who, 
having,  lost  his  upper  teeth,  wore  a  false  set)  was 
engaged  in  serious  conversation  with  some  Indians. 
His  plate  troubling  him,  he  took  it  out  and  wiped  it 
with  his  handkerchief.  The  Indians  watched  the 
process  with  unfeigned  astonishment,  and  when  the 
captain,  putting  the  plate  in  his  mouth,  went  on  with 
the  conversation,  they  sprung  to  their  feet,  and  left 
the  room  and  post  in  all  haste,  and  with  every  symp- 
tom of  extreme  terror. 

Buffalo,  a  bright,  intelligent  Cheyenne,  now  em- 
ployed under  my  command  as  a  scout,  has  but  one 
eye.  A  few  years  ago  an  army  surgeon,  who  took  a 
fancy  to  him,  inserted  a  glass  eye  in  the  vacant  orbit. 
For  a  long  time  it  was  a  constant  amusement  to  him, 
and  a  dread  to  his  companions,  h6  insisting  that  he 
could  see  as  well  with  that  eye  as  with  the  other,  and 
they  putting  him  to  all  sorts  of  tests,  which  he  was 
quick  enough  to  foil.  It  was  a  long  time  before  the 
Cheyennes  got  used  to  Buffalo's  eye,  and  even  now 
they  regard  it  with  suspicion  as  doubtful  medicine. 


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the 
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with 
left 


CHAPTEE  XXrV. 

DISEASE    AND    DEATH  —  THE     STRUGGLE    FOR 

EXISTENCE. 

nomesickness  —  Driven  from  Pillar  to  Post  —  Fate  of  the  Pawnees  — 
Frightful  Mortality — The  "Policy"  that  Drives  Indians  to  Despera- 
tion —  The  Only  Misfortune  Over  which  an  Imlian  Broods  —  Rude 
Remedies  —  The  Sweat  House  —  A  Cold  Plunge  —  Disease  among 
Indian  Children  —  A  Shocking  Suspicion  —  Wild  Flight  —  Super- 
stitious TeiTor  —  Abject  Prostration  and  Alarm  —  The  Wail  of  De- 
spair—  Dead  and  Dying  Left  by  the  Wayside  —  Scenes  of  Indescribable 
HoiTor  —  Hydrophobia  —  Curious  Facts  Concerning  the  Bite  of  a 
Skunk  —  Awaiting  the  Worst  of  Fates  —  Suicide — Defiance  of  Tor- 
ture —  Preparing  for  a  Desperate  Raid  —  Shot  Dead  in  his  Saddle  — 
Deathbed  Scenes  —  Chanting  the  Death  Song^—  The  Final  Farewell. 

I  IKE  most  people  who  live  much  in  the 
fresh  air,  the  Indians  are  a  healthy 
race,  but  their  condition  of  health 
seems  to  be  in  a  great  degree  depend- 
ent on  their  remaining  in  the  country 
to  which  they  are  accustomed.  The 
ill  effect  of  change  'does  not  appear  to 
be  due  to  climatic  influences,  for  those 
G-^"  removed  from  malarial  and  unhealthy  re- 
gions to  more  salubrious  districts  suffer  more  or  less, 
though  not  of  course  so  much  as  when  the  conditions 
are  reversed.  I  believe  that  homesickness  i-  the 
foundation  of  this  ill  effect,  and  that  the  extraor- 
dinary and  unnatural  diminution  in  the  numbers  of 
certain  tribes  is  due  to  nostalgia  more  than  any 
other  cause. 

811 


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u 


312 


NOSTALGIA. 


Almost  every  year  witnesses  the  enforced  change 
of  locations  of  some  of  the  Indians.  A  tribe  is 
ousted  from  the  country  in  which  were  born  all  its 
living,  and  which  contains  the  graves  of  all  its  dead. 
Those  old  enough  to  appreciate  the  misfortune,  dis- 
heartened, despairing,  in  no  mood  to  maintain  the 
struggle  for  existence,  are  ready  to  fall,  almost 
willing  victims,  to  the  first  malady  that  assails  them. 
The  young  grow  up,  and  learn  to  love  the  country  of 
their  adoption,  only  ivi  time  to  be  themselves  removed, 
and  go  through  with  the  wretched  experience  of  their 
fatliers. 

I  have  not  the  data  for  a  careful  comparison  of  the 
vital  statistics  of  tribes,  but  my  personal  observation 
convinces  me  that  those  tribes  which  have  been  most 
frequently  forced  to  move  have  suffered  the  greatest 
diminution  in  nulubers,  and  this,  too,  without  regard 
to  the  healthfulness  or  insalubrity  of  the  country  to 
which  the  move  was  made. 

Witness  the  Pawnees,  who,  scarce  fifty  years  ago, 
were  numerically  one  of  the  most  powerful  tribes  in 
the  territory  of  the  United  States,  but  who,  by  the 
aggressions  of  equally  warlike  tribes,  or  by  the  power 
of  the  government,  have  been  repeatedly  forced  to 
change  their  country,  until  now  the  bare  remnant,  a 
population  of  scarce  a  thousand  souls,  occupies  a 
little  corner  of  the  Indian  Territory  twenty  miles' 
square.  It  is  true  that  the  Pawnees  are  an  exceed- 
ingly warlike  race,  but  their  losses  at  the  hands  of 
their  human  enemies  are  entirely  dispropoi'tioned  to 
their  loss  by  various  maladies,  whose  foundation  in 
my  belief  is  simply  nostalgia. 

Of  the   removal   of  the   Cherokees   from   !North 

« 

Carolina,  the  ''  Missionary  Herald  "  said :  "  From  the 


■  HN'MhAtMiJliJi- 


TEERIBLE   MORTALITY. 


313 


ano-e 


Pead. 


lime  they  were  gathered  into  camps  by  the  United 
States  troops,  in  May  and  June,  1838,  till  the  time  the 
last  detachment  reached  the  Arkansas  country,  Avhich 
was  about  ten  months,  a  careful  estimate  shows  that 
not  less  than  four  thousand,  or  forty-five  hundred 
wei*e  removed  by  death,  being  on  an  average  from 
thirteen  to  fifteen  deaths  a  day  for  the  whole  period, 
out  of  a  population  of  sixteen  thousand,  or  one  fourth 
of  the  whole  number.  It  does  not  appear  that  this 
mortality  was  owing  to  neglect  or  bad  treatment 
while  on  the  joui*ney." 

In  ten  months,  more  than  one-fourth  of  a  whole 
population  is  carried  off  by  death,  in  a  healthy 
country,  without  epidemic,  without  "war,  pestilch'-c 
or  famine,"  and  it  never  seems  to  have  occurred  to 
any  one  to  look  for,  much  less  assign  a  reason  for  it. 

The  Indian  is  naturally  light-heai'ted  and  thought- 
less, disposed  to  take  the  world  as  it  comes  and  make 
the  best  of  it.  This  is  the  philosophy  he  derives  from 
his  patience  and  endurance. 

The  possibility  of  starvation  to  which  he  is  con- 
stantly exposed  by  the  "policy"  now  in  vogue, 
engenders  a  feeling  of  aggressive  desperation  rather 
than  of  hopeless  des})air.  He  becomes  excessively 
indignant  and  dangerous,  but,  the  crisis  past,  returns 
at  once  to  his  normal  temper  "  laissez-faire." 

His  removal  from  his  accustomed  haunts  is  the  only 
single  misfortune  over  which  I  have  ever  known  an 
Indian  to  brood. 

The  laws  of  the  United  States  do  not  recofinize 
banishment  as  penalty  for  any  crime,  yet  the  govern- 
ment habilually  exercises  the  right  to  exile  from  their 
native  homes  a  people  with  whom  it  holds  treaty 
relations,  and  who,  in  the  absence  of  any  penal  code, 


fM 


JfSSSiJisSS 


3U 


PLUCK. 


can  commit  no  crime  against  the  laws  or  people  of 
the  United  States.  This  nnjust  and  arbitrary  exercise 
of  power  is  a  special  and  refined  cruelty  to  the  Indian, 
for  white  men  are  so  constituted,  and  have  so  many 
resources,  that  not  one  in  a  hundred  Avould  feel  such  a 
misfortune  as  keenly  as  does  the  Indian. 

Aside  from  its  inhumanity,  the  policy  of  removal  is 
more  than  questionable.  A  tribe,  as  the  Modocs,  or 
Nez  Perces,  which  for  generations  has  lived  in  the 
most  amicable  relations  with  white  men,  is,  for  a  single 
outbreak,  forced  on  it  by  injustice,  greed  and  aggres- 
sion, exiled  to  a  strange  land.  Despairing  and  des- 
perate, men  who  have  been  our  life-long  friends  are 
converted  into  unforgiving  enemies.  Hoping,  almost 
praying,  for  an  excuse  for  outbreak,  willing  to  risk 
death  for  even  the  slightest  chance  of  regaining 
their  loved  homes,  these  fragments  of  bands  are  a 
constant  source  of  anxiety  to  States  containing  over 
two  millions  of  inhabitants,  and  require  a  force  of 
troops  to  watch  and  control  them,  at  an  expense  ten 
times  greater  than  would  feed,  clothe,  house,  and 
make  them  valuable  citizens  in  the  countries  for 
which  they  yearn. 

It  is  time  that  the  government  began  to  under- 
stand that  homesickness  with  Indians  is  a  disease, 
a  most  dangerous  malady,  resulting  in  death  to  them, 
in  loss  of  life  and  money  to  us. 

Indians  have  plenty  of  courage  and  extraordinary 
endurance,  but  little, of  that  rather  indefinable  quality 
called  "pluck."  The  man  who  cheerfully  and  volun- 
tarily submits  himself  to  all  the  tortures  of  the  Iloch- 
e-a-yum,  will,  on  a  bed  of  sickness,  be  as  impatient  and 
as  fretful  as  a  child.  Ilmls  and  wounds  are  mattei's 
of  ocular  demonstration  easily  understood;  sickness 


■  t-V-v, 


I  i:«'--i  ■■■■>>  J.ii--',:i*.A-ji 


THE   SWEAT  HOUSE. 


315 


fc  of 

li'cise 
jclian, 
lany 
k'h  a 

|al  is 
,  or 
the 


Is  different.  To  he  burning  with  fever,  shaken  with 
chills,  or  racked  with  rheumatism,  is  so  foreign  to 
their  experience  of  what  is  common  and  natural  to 
animal  life,  that  it  can  be  attributed  only  to  the 
malevolent  influence  of  the  Bad  God.  No  idea  of 
a  diagnosis  has  occurred  to  them,  nor  have  they  even 
advanced  sufliciently  to  comprehend  that  there  are 
different  kinds  of  ordinary  disease.  Sickness  is  sick- 
ness, a  direct  manifestation  of  the  evil  power  and  will 
of  the  Bad  God;  that  is  all  they  laiow  or  think  about  it. 

In  a  previous  chapter  I  have  given  a  detailed 
description  of  the  exorcisms,  chantings,  and  other 
religious  ceremonies  used  by  the  medicine  men  in 
their  conflicts  with  the  Evil  One.  These  are  used  in 
sickness  only.  The  cure  of  a  wound  would  never  be 
attempted  by  such  means,  though  the  medicine  men 
make  pow-wows  over  the  wounded  man  to  prevent 
the  Evil  One  from  taking  advantage  of  his  situation. 
A  wound  is  tangible,  and  though  it  results  from  the 
power  of  the  Bad  God,  this  does  not  prevent  its 
being  treated  directly  and  oftentimes  very  success- 
fully. 

Other  than  by  the  power  of  religion,  there  is  but 
one  single  mode  by  which  the  alleviation  and  cure  of 
diseases  is  attempted.  This  is  the  "sweat  house," 
which,  though  differing  somewhat  with  different  tribes, 
is  sufficiently  the  same  for  a  general  description.  A 
small  structure,  six  feet  long  by  four  or  five  feet  broad, 
with  a  low  arched  roof,  like  a  bake-oven,  is  built  of 
rough  stones  and  mud,  close  on  the  bank  of  a  stream, 
the  one  opening  on  the  side  overlooking  as  nearly  as 
possible  a  deep  pool.  A  fire  is  built  within,  and  when 
a  proper  degree  of  heat  has  been  attained,  the  fire 
and  ashes  are  raked  out,  the  patient,  stripped  naked, 


Mi4 


'    -?VSa 


'^■'^ 


i^  ,1 


'% 


^Aill»^«;.i-'4/*  ■-'■..-!•. 'ii;!  '. 


U  '.'^w 


"fi;::?^:^ 


316 


DISEASES   OF   CHILDHOOD. 


crawls  in,  and  the  opening  is  closed  with  a  blanlvct. 
"When  almost  baked,  and  the  perspiration  stream] n«^ 
from  every  pore,  he  is  taken  out  and  plunged  into  the 
pool  below.  In  most  instances,  and  with  the  diseases 
most  common  to  Indians  —  intermittent  fever  and 
rheumatism  —  this  treatment  is  wonderfully  effica- 
cious, 'n  other  cases,  and  especiallv  with  small-pox, 
the  Indian  enters  the  Avater  and  the  "happy  hunting 
grounds  "  at  the  same  instant.  This  result,  however, 
will  not  jDrevent  a  repetition  of  the  treatment  with  the 
next  patient,  and  to  this  persistence  is  due  much  of 
the  mortality  incident  to  Indian  disease. 

From  the  day  of  his  entrance  into  this  world  until 
maturity,  the  life  of  an  Indian  is  truly  a  "  struggle 
for  existence."  The  women  are  generally  healthy, 
and  produce  healthy  children.  The  life  of  the 
weakly  child  is  a  short  span,  not  necessarily  because 
the  parents  kill  it,  as  is  generally  believed,  but 
because  of  the  poor  fare,  hard  life,  and  constant 
drudgery  of  the  mother,  and  the  exposure  to  which 
the  child  is  subjected.  Among  civilized  people,  the 
sickly  child  has  the  best  medical  attendance,  the  most 
careful  nursing;  every  assistance  known  to  art  is 
given  to  nature.  Among  'Indians,  nature  has  no 
assistance,  and  unless  naturally  strong  enough  to 
withstand  the  strain,  the  child  dies.  The  greatest 
mortality  is  confined  to  ycry  young  children,  and 
after  passing  its  third  or  fourth  year,  the  chance  of 
the  Indian  child's  death  by  disease  is  yery  much  less 
than  that  of  the  white  child.  But  through  all  the 
"clambering"  age,  and  until  entirely  able  to  take 
care  of  itself,  the  Indian  child's  life  is  not  only  beset 
by  the  innumerable  accidents  and  chances  incident 
to  its  mode  of  living,  but  many,  such  as  the  breaking 


i'-r.-- '/'  'W  ,•  •    ■,".-":;./'-/■,  L]-jS:i.i.)t.^ij_:jii.-:l\/\'^^,.\\\x->-..^--^^^  ''t'^'.-^.t'.''X^:idah'^-*i'i.'^''i\y-h-r--.^^^ 


■r^',  -;  .--■!•. 


■-""  '^■■,   ■    I  .   y 


SMALL-POX. 


317 


(he 
l^asesi 
and 
ica- 

pox, 
ting. 

the 
of    • 


of  limbs,  bites  from  snakes,  which  would  be  but 
temporary  pain  and  inconvenience  to  the  wliite,  result 
in  death  to  the  Indian,  from  lack  of  proper  treatment. 

Contact  with  civilization,  which  presumably  might 
have  increased,  has  really  lessened  the  chances  of 
life  of  the  young  Indian,  bringing  measles,  mumps, 
whooping-cough,  and  scarlet  fever,  maladies  so  com- 
mon to  civilization,  that  they  are  looked  upon  as  a 
necessary  experience  in  the  life  of  every  white  child, 
but  which  are  entirely  unknown  to  the  Indian  in  his 
natural  state. 

I  shall  never  be  able  to  believe  that  the  actual 
Indian  population  of  the  United  States  fifty  years 
ago,  was  more  than  a  mere  fraction  of  that  given  on 
paper  by  writers,  who  were  either  agents,  interested 
in  liaving  as  many  on  their  papers  as  possible,  or 
enthusiasts  like  Catlin,  who  evidently  believed  any 
boast  the  Indians  chose  to  make  as  to  their  numbers. 
It  is,  however,  a  fact  established  beyoiid  all  possibility 
of  doubt,  that  the  actual  diminution  has  been  enor- 
mously gre?^. 

The  p.uicipal  cause  of  this  diminution  was  small- 
pox, which  fifty  years  ago,  was  probably  the  greatest 
scourge  of  all  nations  and  people.  Some  few  small 
tribes,  living  closely  together  for  protection  against 
powerful  neighbors,  as  the  Mandans,  were  almost 
completely  annihilated,  and  some  bands  of  the  larger 
tribes  lost  half  their  numbeVs.  The  control  of  this 
terrible  disease  now  possessed  by  science  has  led  to 
its  almost  entire  disappearance  among  Avhites,  and  as 
Indians  get  it  only  by  contact  with  whites,  or  from 
infected  clothing  (said  to  have  been  sometimes  pur- 
posely sent  to  them),  it  has  now  almost  entirely  dis- 
ajipeared  from  among  them. 


."«'  .-..S'.-'*:,**, 


11' 


318 


CHOLERA. 


sn-. 


Another  dreadful  scourge,  cholera,  has  periodically 
attacked  them,  and  though  not  nearly  so  fatal  to 
Indian  life  as  small-pox,  it  has  well  done  its  work  in 
the  diminution  of  their  nimibers.  I  have  heard  of  no 
case  of  small-pox  among  Indians  for  twenty  years 
(except  the  very  recent  outbreak  among  the  Utes, 
which,  under  the  circumstances,  appears  very  like 
design  on  the  part  of  somebody),  but  whenever  this 
country  has  been  afflicted  by  cholera,  the  Indians 
have  suffered  more  in  proportion  to  numbers  than 
whites. 

They  soon  learn  from  the  squaw  men  when  the 
cholera  has  visited  our  shores,  and  take  every  pre- 
caution against  it,  breaking  into  small  bands,  and 
removing  into  the  most  secluded  wilds,  far  from  rail- 
roads, steamboats,  or  settlements. 

In  spite  of  this,  and  the  most  rigid  quarantine,  a 
band  is  occasionally  attacked.  How  it  reaches  them 
is  a  mystery,  no  more  to  be  accounted  for  than  the 
spread  of  the  horse  disease  of  a  fcAv  years  ago,  com- 
monly called  the  epizootic,  and  which  passed  at  a 
regular  rate  of  speed,  without  contact  or  apparent 
cause,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  sparing  no 
herd  of  hoi'ses,  however  isolated,  either  of  Indian  or 
white  man. 

The  Indians  regard  all  these  diseases  as  simply  the 
manifestation  of  the  diabolic  power  and  disposition 
of  the  Bad  God,  who,  having  in  their  encounter 
so  worsted  the  Good  God,  as  to  render  him  tem- 
porarily powerless,  seizes  the  opportunity  to  wreak 
his  rage  upon  the  defenceless  people. 

To  describe  the  superstitious  terror,  the  abject  fear 
of  these  unfortunate  savages,  at  such  times,  is  beyond 
the  power  of  words.      When  the  epidemic  is  suffi- 


'* 


t*         ;  .<    -*  4"    ■•       W^^  r^fc," '  Jktf    k  ^'1  ••    «  -^  t^  i  Ji  4 


r.-'^V  ,'i'f  r."^.-v^r  r/ -  -  i:<i ;-  ■  r, 


;•-;'■■  ■■'■:■'.>, 


'. :.,,..  -.■    -.f 


THE    RACE   FOR  LIFE. 


319 


cicntly  pronounced  for  sure  recognition,  a  wail  of 
utter  despair  ascends  to  heaven.  Camps  and  lodges 
are  abandoned,  the  dead  and  dying  left  unburied  and 
uncared  for,  and  those  yet  unafllicted,  breaking  up 
into  families,  iiy  in  every  direction  from  the  scene  of 
suffering.  They  hope  by  the  secrecy  and  celerity  of 
their  movements  to  baffle  the  pursuit  of  the  Bad 
God.  An  unfortunate  seized  with  the  disease  en 
route  is  forced  to  leave  the  party,  to  live  or  die  soli- 
taiy  and  alone  in  the  wilderness.  Husbands  abandon 
their  wives,  children  their  aged  parents,  mothers  their 
nursing  infants,  and  this  terrible  race  for  life  con- 
tinues until  the  disease  has  worn  itself  out,  cither 
from  want  of  contact,  or  lack  of  victims. 

The  places  at  which  these  terrible  visitations  have 
overtaken  the  Indians  are  forever  regarded  with 
sui)erstitious  terror,  and  no  persuasion  or  bribe  could 
induce  an  Indian,  knowingly,  to  visit  them. 

Many  years  ago,  with  a  small  force,  I  was  scouting 
in  the  Guadalui)e  Mountains  in  Texas,  then  a  favor- 


ite hunting  ground  of  the  Indians. 


In  going  from 


one  mountain  pass  to  another,  an  old  Indian  trail  was 
discovered.  It  was  deep  and  wide,  showed  plain  evi- 
dence of  much  and  frequent  usage,  but  no  sign  of 
recent  travel.  It  evidently  led  to  some  spot  which 
had  been  a  favorite  place  of  resort,  but  which,  for 
some  reason,  had  for  several  years  been  abandoned. 
Curious  to  know  more  I  followed  the  trail.  After 
winding  along  ridges  for  three  or  four  miles,  it  led  by 
a  long  and  steep  descent  to  a  most  charming  valley, 
nestled  and  hidden  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  moun- 
tains. This  valley  was  about  twelve  miles  long  by 
an  average  of  three-fourths  of  a  mile  in  width.  A 
beautiful  stream  wound  in  <i:raccful  curves  from  moun- 


p  I 


4. 


'-. Jtf-^-.y*.   "Y- *.3i  .v;;>'t.^,.  t.'i  .ii  /Ah'.ri.-ij  ■}..'jk.  1  .-ft..,    ',-.  .■•.^■-- 


'  .  ...  .  ■  M'^ 


./-. 


";i<V 


320 


THE   VISITATION   OF   GOD. 


1 

Hk'!'''''.: 

1 

^Hltr«k"' 

» 

r 

^^^Pr^  -">A 

'. 

f 

Hk^:c'' 

• 

^^MC&f' 

^^^^^B.'''> 

; 

^H^'*' 

^PS^"' 

. 

Vm^^^ 

Dp' 

I 

SP' ' 

^K:':""V 

K 

^Ptt^V' 

Hi 

^1^.'^^ 

Hr''' 

^^^K^v- 

lff^~ 

^HK'i'.v*. 

ffi, 

^^kT ')-'.'' 

■"   4r' 


t:cM 


tain  to  monntain  as  if  seelving  to  leave  no  spot  of  the 
valley  iintoiiehed  by  its  invigoratin*^  influenee.  Tall, 
shapely  treco  clustered  along-  the  margins  of  the 
stream;  smooth  h\wns  of  the  greenest  grass,  dotted 
with  clumps  of  shrubbery,  and  covei-ed  with  lovely 
flowers  of  every  hue,  made  a  picture  as  fair  as  the 
eye  of  man  could  wish  it. 

Descending  the  stream  for  some  two  miles,  we 
came,  in  one  of  the  loveliest  of  the  many  lovely  nooks, 
upon  the  remains  of  an  Indian  camp.  INIany  of  the 
old  lodge  poles  were  still  standing,  though  the  lodges 
themselves  had  long  since  gone  to  decay.  Scattered 
about,  rusted  and  rotten,  Avere  cooking  utensils,  arms, 
saddles,  all  the  paraphernalia  that  go  to  make  Indian 
wealth  and  Indian  comfort.  In  the  midst  of  these, 
and  in  every  direction  in  and  around  the  camp,  Avere 
innumerable  bones  —  the  dislocated  skeletons  of  the 
Indian  inhabitants;  some,  almost  entire,  lying  where 
the  breath  had  left  the  bodies;  others  scattered  and 
broken  as  they  had  been  dragged,  and  gtiawed,  and 
left  by  the  wolves.  To  all  appearance  not  a  thing 
had  been  touched  by  man;  not  a  living  soul  had  en- 
tered that  camp  since  the  day  of  its  awful  visitation 
by  the  Bad  God. 

Mental  and  nervous  diseases  are  rare,  though  a 
"Crazy  Woman"  has  given  name  to  several  streams 
in  widely  sei)arated  portions  of  the  Plains.  Idiotic 
children  are  occasionally  found,  and  I  have  heard  of 
one  case  of  paralysis. 

Rabies  is  not  a  Plains  malady,  and  personally  I 
have  never  known  a  single  case  on  the  Plains  exccjit 
in  white  men  bitten  by  the  skunk. 

The  Indians,  however,  say  they  are  not  unfre- 
quently  troubled  with  mad  wolves.     On  the  middle 


"■^■-^'-T.  "-". 


.-  -A!*  .i-l  ^Ai'siViWi.''-    t .  ■  iyK  ';"  >.;iK*'/  .'JV;V;    .1'  ^>J  t,i  w' 


r^ 


^'f^Tij^f^n^'^^CMW' 


■r  '■■^■■;fy-t-  ■  •■' 


SUICIDE. 


321 


flio 
'all, 

tllG 

I  the 


Plains  they  make  their  appearanee  in  Febniai'y  and 
Maiv'h.  Having  entered  an  Indian  village  the  wolf 
will  make  no  attempt  to  leave  it,  but  rushing  furi- 
ously from  lodge  to  lodge,  attacks  everything  that 
comes  in  its  way,  until  killed  or  disabled.  In  every 
instance,  death  by  hydrophobia  is  to  the  Indian  the 
sure  result  of  even  the  slightest  scratch  from  the 
teeth  of  the  rabid  animal.  They  make  no  attein])t  at 
treatment,  but  philosophically  commence  preparations 
for  the  death  sure  to  come  in  a  few  days. 

After  giving  away  all  his  proi)ei'ty  he  quietly  awaits 
the  first  i)aroxysms,  th(ni  goes  oif  alone,  far  away 
fi'om  camp,  meets  his  fate  calmly,  or  anticipates  it  by 
suicide. 

The  bite  of  a  skunk,  so  extremely  fatal  to  white 
men  within  certain  limits  of  the  Plains,  seems  to  have 
no  injui'ious  effect  whatever  on  the  Indian,  beyond 
the  mere  pain  of  the  wound. 

Suicide,  generally,  among  whites,  the  result  of 
over-sensitiveness  or  morbid  selfishness,  is  to  the 
Indian  a  religious  dernier  ressort,  a  mode,  when  all 
hope  is  gone,  of  escaping  tlic  persecution  of  the  Bad 
God.  In  all  my  experience  among  Indians  I  have 
known  but  one  single  case  of  suicide  for  a  frivolous 
cause.  A  Sioux  boy  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  years 
of  age,  who  had  all  his  life  been  gi'catly  indulged  and 
spoiled  by  his  father,  fell  desperately  in  love  with  a 
young  girl  of  the  same  tribe.  The  youth  had  no 
proi)erty,  and  the  girl's  parents  demanded  more  for 
her  than  his  fiither  was  disposed  to  pay.  For  several 
days  he  persistently,  but  vainly,  pleaded  with  his 
father  to  pay  the  price  demanded;  and  one  morning, 
after  a  more  than  usually  peremptory  refusal,  he 
walked  in  a  fret  out  of  the  lodge,  drew  his  pistol. 


322 


DESPERATION  OF  DTCgPAIR. 


placed  it  against  his  stomach,  and  fii-cd,  inflicting  a 
mortal  wound.  lie  was  carried  into  the  lodge,  and 
after  lingering  a  day  or  two  in  great  agony,  died 
extremely  penitent  (Avhen  too  late).  The  father  was 
thoronglily  angry  and  disgnsted,  and  after  the  act  of 
self-destrnction  never  spoke  to  the  son,  except  to  load 
him  with  reproaches,  and  abuse  him  as  an  utter  fool, 
and  after  his  death  buried  him  without  ceremony  or 
honor. 

Tiiough  Indians  not  unfrcquently  commit  suicide 
to  escape  the  power  of  the  Bad  God,  as  manifested 
in  hydrophobia,  paralysis,  or  similar  terrible  and 
hopeless  afflictions,  I  have  never  heard  of  one  com- 
mitting the  net  to  escape  torture.  In  conflict  with 
Indians,  a  white  man  will  habitually  save  his  last  shot 
for  himself,  for  he  knows  the  tcrrii)le  result  of  cap- 
ture. An  Indian  sends  his  last  shot  at  his  enemy, 
and  when  captured  takes  pride  in  showing  how 
bravely  he  can  bear  the  worst  that  his  enemy  can  do. 

A  few  years  ago,  a  citizen,  living  on  the  Chngwater 
Creek  in  !N^(^braska,  told  mc  a  singular  ainl  dramatic 
story.  In  18G7-8,  a  smnli  band  of  some  half-dozen 
lodges,  encamped  near  his  house,  was  attacked  with 
cholera.  A  young  buck,  being  seized  with  the  pre- 
monitory symptoms,  saddled  Ins  horse,  loaded  himself 
with  arms,  saying,  "The  white  men  have  brought  this 
bad  medicine  into  our  country;  I  am  going  to  die, 
but  not  by  cholera.  I  mean  to  i-ide  up  the  creek 
through  the  whit.,  settlements,  and  kill  every  white  I 
meet  until  I  am  killed."  Tho  other  men  of  the  band, 
being  peaceably  disposed,  and  just  then  greatly  need- 
ing the  assistance  of  the  whites,  did  all  in  their  power 
to  dissuade  him  from  his  pur])ose.  Finding  their 
entreaties   of   no   avail,   they  waited  until   he   had 


DEATH-BED    SOE^STES. 


323 


mounted  his  horse,  and  turned  to  start  on  his  despe- 
rate raid,  then  shot  him  dead. 

Catlin  gives  a  most  pitiable  description  of  an  old 
Ponea  chief,  who  had  been  "  exposed,"  that  is,  aban- 
doned by  his  people,  to  die  alone  on  the  prairie.  It 
is  the  only  well-authenticated  case  I  have  ever  heard 
of,  and  is  so  foreign  to  the  ordinary  conduct  of 
Indians,  that  I  think  it  must  have  been  done  on  the 
order  of  the  man  left;  possibly  some  sickly,  religious 
idea  of  his  old  and  feeble  brain.  All  Indians,  with 
whose  customs  I  am  at  all  conversant,  take  their  old 
and  sick  with  them  in  all  removals  of  camp.  They 
are  carried  on  travois,  or  if  very  old  or  childish,  in  the 
wickerwork  baskets  commonly  used  for  children. 

The  death-bed  scene  is  as  various  as  the  character 
and  condition  of  the  person  dying.  Unlike  civilized 
doctors,  the  medicine-men  never  "gi\»c  up"  a  patient, 
but  will  continue  to  howl,  chant,  and  beat  the  tom- 
tom, until  life  is  extinct.  "When,  however,  a  chief 
or  man  of  dignity  and  importance  has  made  up  his 


mind  that  his  end 


is  near,  he 


sends  off  the  howlinjr 


women  and  ceremonious  medicine-men,  and  calls  in 
all  his  family  and  friends.  Having  made  his  verbal 
will,  distributed  his  property,  and  made  his  last 
speeches  to  each,  his  final  elfort  seems  to  be  to  make 
his  exit  wMth  as  good  grace  as  possible.  Sometimes 
he  has  himself  dressed  in  his  best  clothing  (that 
in  which  he  will  be  buried),  and  seated  in  the 
centre  of  a  silent  group  of  relatives  and  friends,  will 
breathe  his  last  calml;y  and  quietly.  Sometimes  lying 
flat  on  his  back  he  will  chant  his  death-song,  even 
with  his  last  breath.  Sometimes,  after  making  his 
will,  he  will  go  off  alone  to  some  thicket,  from  which 
his  lifeless  body  is  presently  brought  by  his  friends. 


h' 


-i-'' 


[L-vVi' 


«;ji 


;,»' 


324 


DESTKUOTION    OF  LODGE. 


:; 


p 


: 


i. 


-.s- 

.■^t 


Dcatli  has  no  terrors  to  the  Indian,  nor  has  he  any 
disquiet  as  to  his  future,  consequently  there  are  no 
horrible  death-bed  scenes. 

Women  and  children  die  naturally,  without  fear, 
and  without  ostentation.  Slaves,  or  persons  of  little 
moment,  or  those  supposed  to  be  affected  with  infec- 
tious or  loathsome  diseases,  are  frequently  taken  out- 
side the  lodge  to  die,  not  from  inhumanity,  but 
because,  when  a  death  occurs  in  a  lodge,  it  must  be 
taken  down  and  its  position  changed. 

Some  years  ago  the  lodge  in  which  a  death 
occurred  was  utterly  destroyed,  but  the  Indians  are 
now  too  poor  to  give  such  vent  to  their  affection  or 
superstition. 


-/>.  ;-;-»tjt.v». 


v^^' 


!^  *»•»;?.'■  I 


'■  '■i^.,1-M"- 


■r-^.'.-v 


no 


'.*  J 


[le 
je- 
It- 

lit 
)e 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

INDIAN  GAMBLERS  —  THEIR  GAMES  OF  SKILL  AND 
CHANCE  —  DRUNKENNESS SCENES   FROM    LIFE. 

Indian  Gamblers  —  A  Favorite  Pastime  —  Preparations  for  the  Game  — 
The  Stakes  —  Tlie  Whirlpool  of  Fortune  —  An  Exciting  Contest  — 
Dexterous  ^lanipulation  —  Counting  the  Points  —  Sweeping  the 
Stakes  —  Experts  with  Cards  —  The  Mysteries  of  "  Monte  "  —  "  Ways 
that  are  Dark "  —  Cheating  a  Fine  Art  —  The  Loaded  Hand  — 
Heavy  Stakes  —  Bad  Luck  —  Wives  and  Children  Lost  —  The  Co- 
manche Gambler  —  The  Fatal  Throw  —  Gambling  Customs  — 
"  Passing  the  Bone  "  —  In  a  Whirl  of  Excitement  —  Aboriginal 
Dice  —  Lucky  Numbers  —  Favorite  Game  with  the  Cheyenne  Wo- 
men —  Born  and  Bred  Swindlers  —  Anything  for  Whiskey  — 
Enjoying  his  Whisikey  Alone  —  Sneaking  off  for  a  Debauch  — 
A  Sound  Thrashing  —  A  Blubbering  Warrior. 

HE  siimiiicr  life  of  the  Indian  is  active. 
He  seems  to  care  nothing  for  heat,  and 
in  his  natural  state,  most  of  his  wak- 
ing hours  in  pleasant  weather  are 
spent  on  horseback,  hunting,  or  gad- 
ding about  from  camp  to  camp,  from 
mere  curiosity  or  love  of  company.  He 
J*^  cannot,  however,  stand  cold.  Winter 
confines  him  to  his  lodge,  and  his  life  at 
this  season  would  be  miserable  enough  but  for  the 
excitement  of  gambling,  dancing,  and  love-making. 

Probably  from  having  little  else  to  do  for  a  third, 
or  half  the  year,  the  passion  of  gambling  is  exces- 
sively developed  among  all  Indians.  A  blanket  will 
be  spread  upon  the  ground,  around  which  the  Indiana 

21  325 


■*■-•' 


;•    i 


■%^ 


I 


326 


THE    BOXE    GAME. 


will  group  until  the  lodge  is  packed.  The  most  com- 
mon games  played  ai-e  as  follows.  Three  or  lour  of 
the  men  best  known  as  dexteious  manipulators,  will 
be  seated  close  on  each  side  of  the  blanket  facing 
each  other.  The  betting  is  not  confined  to  the  i)lay- 
ers,  almost  every  looker-on,  man  or  woman,  choosing 
sides,  and  backing  his  opinion  with  whatever  he  feels 
like  I'isking.  All  the  ai'ticles  wagered  are  laid  out  on 
one  side  of  the  blanket,  and  a  most  heterogeneous 
agglomeration  is  sometimes  presented. 

A  fine  silver-mounted  Mexican  saddle  is  waiircred 
against  a  war-boanet  of  eagles'  feathers,  a  shield 
against  a  bow  and  quiver  full  of  arrows,  a  pair  of 
moccasins  against  an  old  hat,  oi-  a  dollar  against  a 
white  shirt.  The  Avomen  bet  their  necklaces,  leg 
ornaments,  bead-work  of  every  kind.  Xothing  is  too 
costly  or  too  worthless  to  minister  to  this  appetite. 

All  the  bets  being  up,  the  game  conuiiences.  One 
of  the  players  will  hold  up  in  his  fingers  a  })iece  of 
bone,  well  polished  by  frequent  use,  two  to  three 
inches  long,  by  one-quarter  inch  in  diameter.  It  is 
then  enclosed  between  the  two  hands,  and  shifted 
from  one  to  the  other,  with  inconceivable  dextei'ity 
and  rapidity.  His  skill  consists  not  only  in  com- 
pletely mystifying  his  opi)onents,  but  by  permiUiug 
occasional  glimpses  of  the  bone  when  the  hands  are 
together,  to  make  it  ap])ear  that  it  is  in  one  hand 
while  it  is  really  in  the  other. 

The  opponents  Avatch  carefully  and  patiently.  At 
lasi  one  feels  sufiiciently  sure  to  Avarrant  a  selection, 
and  points  quickly  to  one  hand,  Avhich  must  instantly 
be  stretched  out  and  o])ened.  If  the  bone  is  in  that 
hand,  the  oi)ponentsof  the  inanii)ulator  count  a  point; 
if  it  is  not,  then  his  side  counts  a  point.      A  man  on 


■  '•'•S-^.'. 


iffiii'ii'iiBf 


, -.■ ,.,  ■n^  ^at  V""- y";7'"^'''^>s; '  «■ 


POKER.  —  SEVEN-UP. 


327 


the  other  side  then  takes  the  bone,  and  the  process  is 
exactly  repeated. 

Twenty-one  points  is  game.  AVhen  it  is  decided 
each  winner  takes  possession  of  his  stake,  and  the 
property  staked  against  it,  and  another  game  is 
started. 

As  evxny  Indian  wants  to  bet,  and  as  each  has  a 
shrewd  eye  to  the  main  chance,  and  tries  to  match  his 
wager  against  something  a  little  more  valnable,  it  will 
readily  be  perceived  that  ^'making  the  game,"  is  by 
far  the  most  imjiortant  part  of  it,  taking  mnch  time 
and  a  vast  deal  of  noise,  wrangling,  bantering,  chaff- 
ing and  blowing.  T  have  never  seen  any  quarrelling, 
however,  and  they  win  or  lose  "like  gentlemen"  with 
unvarying  good  humor. 

The  Utes  use  two  bones  as  exactly  alike  as  possible, 
but  around  the  middle  of  one  is  wound  a  small  string. 
After  a  certain  amount  of  manipulation,  one  is  re- 
tained in  eacli  hand,  and  the  hands  then  stretched  out. 
The  opponent  selects  a  hand,  which  is  opened,  and  if 
the  wrapped  bone  is  in  it,  he  wins,  if  in  the  other 
hand,  he  loses.     It  is  a  mere  game  of  guess. 

This  and  other  old  games,  though  holding  a  strong 
place  in  the  affections  of  the  Indians,  because  they 
permit  an  unlimited  number  of  players,  are  generally 
discarded  by  the  more  ardent  gamblers,  who,  like  the 
whist-playing  lady,  regret  the  loss  of  time  "taken  in 
dealing,"  or  getting  ready. 

All  the  tribes  are  sufficiently  civilized  to  possess 
and  understand  cards.  Those  who  come  in  contact 
with  Mexicans,  are  well  versed  in  all  the  mysteries 
of  "  monte,"  while  the  reservation  Indians  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  "poker,"  and  "seven  up,"  sufficient  for 
all  [uu'poses  of  gambling,  in  a  quarter  the  time  it 


'?.■ 


f 


r" 


»; 


328 


THE  UNLUCKY  GAMBLER. 


\K^ 


,'*. 


I 


I- 


*:' 


I' 

fv 


would  take  them  to  learn  the  alphabet.  The  wilder 
tribes  invent  games  for  themselves. 

Cheating  is  a  recognized  part  of  all  games  among 
all  Indians.  Luck  in  holding,  and  skill  in  playing 
are  both  made  subservient  to  skill  in  manipulation. 
The  man  who  can  deal  himself  the  best  hand  is 
recognized  as  the  best  player,  provided  he  is  not 
caught  at  it.  If  detected  he  loses,  and  this  being 
the  only  penalty,  the  game  goes  on. 

In  winter,  the  men  play  from  morning  till  night,  and 
not  unfrequently  from  night  till  morning  again.  The 
stakes  are  high  for  a  poor  people.  I  have  personally 
looked  on  at  a  game  between  two  Arrapahoe  chiefs, 
where  one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  depended  on  a 
single  hand. 

Indians  arc  possessed  of  true  gambling  passion, 
and  will,  if  in  bad  luck,  lose  blankets,  robes,  lodge, 
arms,  ponies,  wives,  and  even  children  (although  this 
is  extremely  rare).  Twenty-five  years  ago  I  knew 
of  such  a  case  among  the  Comanches.  The  unlucky 
gambler  having  lost  wives,  children  and  property, 
yielded  all  to  the  winner  and  started  alone  for 
Mexico  to  recuperate  his  fallen  fortunes  by  stealing. 
This  was  not  in  those  days  so  very  unusual  an  occur- 
rance. 

An  Indian  does  scarcely  anything  in  secret.  Hav- 
ing no  such  idea  as  is  embodied  in  our  English  word 
"  vice,"  he  is  entirely  open  and  above-board,  in  every- 
thing except  those  few  things  to  which  custom 
attaches  punishment.  There  is  therefore  no  secrecy 
about  the  gambling.  Notice  is  sent  out  betimes,  and 
everybody  invited.  The  sound  of  the  'Hom-tom" 
notifies  all  that  the  game  is  about  to  begin.  During 
its   progress    the   music   is   kept   up.      During   the 


..Si/i.li:..^ 


^,..-/-A  Jy. 


AN  EXCITING  GAME. 


329 


manipulations  or  pauses  of  the  game,  all  join  in  song. 
Sometimes  two  noted  players  will  get  up  a  game 
between  themselves.  Spectators  crowd  around,  and  if 
a  man  is  losing  heavily,  the  whole  camp  soon  knows 
it.  In  such  cases,  the  wives  of  the  loser  put  in  an 
appearance  before  matters  have  proceeded  to  extrem- 
ities, and  break  up  the  game. 

Tiic  Comanches  have  a  game  somewhat  like  "  hide 
the  slipper,"  in  which  an  almost  unlimited  number 
may  take  part.  Two  individuals  will  choose  sides,  by 
alternate  selection  among  those  who  wish  to  play,  men 
or  women.  All  then  seat  themselves  in  the  parallel 
lines  about  eight  feet  apart,  facing  each  other.  The 
articles  Avagcred  are  piled  between  the  lines.  All 
being  ready,  the  leader  of  one  side  rising  to  his  knees 
holds  up  the  gambling  bone,  so  that  all  may  see  it. 
He  then  closes  it  in  the  two  hands,  manipulating  it  so 
dexterously  that  it  is  impossible  to  see  in  which  hand 
it  is. 

After  a  minute  or  more  of  rapid  motion  he  suddenly 
thrusts  one  or  generally  both  hands,  into  the  out- 
stretched hands  of  the  person  on  the  right  and  left. 
This  marks  the  real  commencement  of  the  game,  no 
guess  of  the  other  watching-side  being  i:)ermitted 
until  after  this  movement.  He  may  pass  the  bone  to 
one  or  the  other,  or  he  may  retain  it  himself.  In 
either  case,  he  continues  his  motions  as  if  he  had  it, 
and  each  of  those  two,  closing  the  hands,  go  through 
with  the  manipulations  as  if  he  had  received  it; 
passing  or  pretending  to  pass  it  on  and  on  to  the 
right  and  left,  luitil  every  arm  is  waving,  every  hand 
apparently  passing  the  bone  and  every  i)layer  in  a 
whirl  of  excitement.  All  this  while,  the  other  line  is 
watching  with  craned  necks  and  strained  eyes  for  the 


.■V3 


^M 


330 


THE   PLUM-STONE   GAME. 


•'ir:- 


•  ■*.■■ 


t\ 


--a 


!'^.>' 


slightest  bungle  in  the  manipulat'on,  which  will 
indicate  where  the  bone  is.  Finally  some  one  believes 
he  sees  it  and  suddenly  points  to  a  hand,  which  nuist 
be  instantly  thrust  out  and  opened  palm  up.  If  the 
bone  is  in  it  the  watching  party  wins  one  i)oint,  if  not 
it  loses.  The  other  side  then  takes  the  bone  and 
goes  through  the  same  performance.  If  during 
the  manipulations  the  bone  should  be  accidentally 
dropped,  the  other  side  takes  a  point  and  the  bone. 
The  game  is  usually  twenty-one  i)oints,  though  the 
players  may  determine  on  any  number. 

This  is  the  most  exciting  game  I  have  ever  seen 
played  by  Indians,  and  apparently  the  most  fascinat- 
ing to  them. 

Besides  taking  part  in  the  round  games  of  the  men, 
the  women  have  games  of  their  own  which  I  have 
never  seen  played  by  men.  The  most  common  is 
called  the  "  plum-stone  game,"  and  is  i)layod  by  the 
women  and  children  of  nearly  all  the  Phiins  tribes. 
The  stone  of  the  Avild  plum  is  polished  and  the  Hatter 
sides  cut  or  scraped  oft*,  making  them  more  flat.  Some 
of  these  faces  are  then  marked  Avith  dilferent  hiero- 
glyphics, varying  with  the  tril)e,  and  some  left  blank. 
The  game  is  played  with  eight  such  pieces,  which 
are  shaken  together  in  a  little  bowl,  or  tin  cup,  and 
then  thrown  on  a  blanket.  It  is  really  nothing  ])ut 
our  game  of  dice,  complicated,  however,  by  a  system 
of  counting  so  curious  and  arbitrary  that  it  is  almost 
impossible  for  a  white  man  to  learn  it.  Every 
possible  combination  of  the  hieroglyphics  and  blanks 
on  the  eight  stones  give  a  difterent  count.  This 
varies  with  the  tribe.  Among  the  Cheyennes  the 
highest  possible  throw  is  two  hundred,  the  lowest 
zero.     The  game  is  usually  two  thousand,  though 


m 


WOMEN  S   BONE    GAME. 


331 


1] 

|e 
)t 


this  grcntiy  varies.  Each  player  having  the  gambler's 
superstition  as  to  what  is  her  lucky  number,  tries  to 
fix  the  game  at  that  number.  If  the  stakes  are 
valuable  the  number  fixed  for  the  game  is  generally 
a  compromise.  In  some  tribes  a  certain  combination 
of  the  stones  wins  and  another  combination  loses  the 
game,  even  though  it  be  made  on  the  first  throw. 

The  Cheyenne  women  have  another  game  of  which 
they  are  passionately  fond. 

Small  white  beads  are  strung  on  a  sinew,  twelve  or 
fourteen  inches  long;  at  one  end,  are  fastened  in  a 
bunch,  six  loops,  about  an  inch  in  diameter,  of  smaller 
beads  similarly  strung.  Four  polished  bones  of  the 
bear's  foot  are  then  strung  on  this  beaded  string,  the 
smaller  ends  toward  the  loops.  Each  of  these  bones 
is  perforated  with  sixteen  holes  in  rows  of  four,  and 
at  each  end  are  tAVo  or  three  very  small  loops  of  red 
beads.  The  other  end  of  the  sinew  is  now  fastened 
to  a  sharpened  piece  of  wire,  six  to  seven  inches  long, 
and  the  gambling  instrument  is  complete. 

The  game  is  played  by  any  number  of  players, 
each  in  turn.  The  needle  is  held  horizontally  between 
the  thumb  and  fingei'S.  The  bones  hanging  down 
are  steadied  for  an  instant,  then  thrown  forward  and 
upward,  and  as  they  come  opposite  the  point  of  the 
needle  a  rapid  thrust  is  made.  If  the  playei*  be  skilful 
the  point  of  the  needle  will  catch  in  some  of  the  loops 
or  ])erforations  of  the  bones.  For  each  loop  at  the 
lower  extremity  of  the  instrument  caught  by  the 
needle,  the  player  counts  one  hundred.  Being  put 
together  in  a  bunch,  it  is  rare  that  more  than  two  or 
three  arc  caught,  though  all  six  may  be.  One  of  the 
bones  caught  lengthwise  on  the  needle  counts  twenty- 
five  ;  two,  fifty.    Each  little  loop  and  perforation  pene- 


■\v-  #■ 


p 


^m 


rjiWiP' 


'-.5~ 


Bi'lLIlM 


t: 
/  /  *' 

-■•> . 

.■I' 

'>_»■- f- 


332 


WOMEN   GAMBLERS. 


trated  by  the  needle  counts  five.  Thongh  the  com- 
plications are  numerous,  the  count  is  simple.  Thus 
suppose  the  needle  passed  through  a  little  loop  on 
third  bone  (five),  then  through  the  bone  (twenty- 
five),  then  through  a  little  loop  at  the  other  end  of 
the  bone  (five),  then  through  a  loop  on  fourth  bone 
(five),  and  finally  through  three  of  the  terminal  loops 
(three  hundred),  the  count  for  the  throw  is  the  sum 
of  all  (three  hundred  and  forty).  ^  have  never  seen 
over  five  hundred  made  at  a  throw,  though  it  is  of 
coui'se  j)os8ible  to  make  over  six  hundred.  If  the 
needle  misses  or  fails  to  perforate  loop  or  orifice, 
there  is  no  count.  The  game  is  usually  two  thou- 
sand. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  in  the  women's  games,  the 
element  of  chance  greatly  preponderates,  the  varia- 
tion in  the  possibilities  of  a  single  throw,  from  noth- 
ing to  more  than  six  hundred,  being  so  great  that 
skill  would  seem  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  success. 
The  Cheyenne  woman  is,  however,  hard  to  beat  at 
this  her  favorite  game.  I  have  a  fcAV  times  been  vic- 
torious by  persistently  aiming  at  the  large  lower 
loops,  which,  though  so  difticult  to  hit  that  five  out 
of  six  throws  were  blanks,  yet  counted  up  handsomely 
when  the  throw  vas  successful. 

These  two  games  are  the  common  amusement  and 
occupation  of  the  Indian  woman,  when  there  Is  no 
special  work  to  do,  and  as  they  are  invariably  played 
for  stakes,  she,  on  a  small  scale,  is  quite  as  much  of 
a  gambler  as  her  husband  or  father. 

The  boys  bet  on  everything,  horse-races,  foot-races, 
shooting  at  marks  with  arrows,  etc.,  and  are  the  most 
rascally  little  scoundrels  in  the  world.  One  of  the 
favorite  games  is  for  one  to  shoot  an  arrow  into  the 


DRUNKENNESS. 


333 


Ills 
m 


ground  at  any  distance  he  pleases.  The  others  then 
shoot  at  it.  To  each  whose  arrow  strikes  witliin  a 
certain  distance  of  his  he  pays  an  arrow;  each  who 
fails  to  come  within  that  distance  pays  an  arrow  to 
him.  In  these  innocent  pastimes  the  hxrge  boys 
swindle  the  smaller  most  egregiously,  and  nothing  so 
delights  them  as  to  get  hold  of  a  little  fellow  whose 
proud  father  has  just  given  him  a  new  set  of  arrows. 
I  have  watched  their  performances  with  the  greatest 
amusement.  They  are  very  like  civilized  rascals, 
and  the  victim  soon  learns  to  revenge  himself  on  his 
swindlers  by  swindling  some  boy  smaller  and  more 
ignorant  than  himself. 

The  vice  of  all  others  most  unhappy  in  its  conse- 
quences to  the  Indian  is  his  love  of  strong  drink. 
This  passion  for  intoxication  amounts  almost  to  an 
insanity.  Those  who  inhabit  that  portion  of  the  con- 
tinent where  grows  the  Maguay  plant,  make  from  it  an 
intoxicating  beverage  known  as  "mescal."  Those 
of  Arizona  and  California  make  from  fermented  corn 
a  drink  which  they  call  "  tizwin,"  as  efficacious  for  a 
first-class  "drunk"  as  anything  that  can  be  produced. 
The  Plains  Indian,  behind  all  others  in  inventive 
faculty,  is  fain  to  fall  back  upon  the  white  man  for 
the  means  of  indulging  in  his  fiivorite  passion. 

To  drink  liquor  as  a  beverage,  for  the  gratification 
of  taste,  or  for  the  sake  of  pleasurable  conviviality,  is 
something  of  which  the  Indian  can  form  no  concep- 
tion. His  idea  of  pleasure  in  the  use  of  strong  drink 
is  to  get  drunk,  and  the  quicker  and  more  complete 
that  effect,  the  better  he  likes  it.  He  is  very  easily 
affected,  a  few  tablespoonfuls  setting  him  roaring, 
and  half  an  ordinary  tumbler  putting  him  in  his  para- 
dise for  hours. 


.,•:^• 


f     i 


r 


■%. 


■.h 


it' 
J'- 


334 


LEGAL   WISDOM. 


The  Plains  Indian  will  ^ive  anything  in  the  way  of 
ponios  or  peltries  for  whiskey,  and  having  had  one 
drink,  will  barter  everything  he  possesses  for  another. 
There  is  no  dirty  aet,  from  bearing  false  witness  to 
prostituting  his  favorite  wife,  that  an  Indian  will  not 
commit  Avhen  whiskey  is  held  out  as  the  ineentivc. 

The  laws  of  the  United  States  are  very  stringent 
in  their  prohibition  of  the  sale  or  gift  of  intoxicating 
liquors  to  Indians,  as  \vc\\  as  its  introduction  into 
the  Indian  Territory. 

It  is  easy  to  make  laws;  it  is  not  easy  always  to 
enforce  them.  When  the  laws  were  made,  "Indian 
Territory "  was  the  whole  vast  country  west  of  the 
Mississippi;  almost  every  portion  of  which  was  then 
occupied  by  Indians.  Much  of  that  territory  is  now 
formed  into  states,  and  the  laws  of  these  states  pro- 
tect its  citizens  in  the  sale  of  liquor  if  they  take  out 
a  license. 

Decision  "fter  decision  has  been  made  by  learned 
judges  and  wise  Indian  Connnissioaers,  in  their 
efforts  to  reconcile  the  right  to  permit  one  man  to 
sell  liquor  with  the  right  to  [)rohil)it  another  man 
from  getting  drunk.  The  term  "  Indian  Territory  " 
has  been  gradually  restricted  in  a])i)lication,  until  at 
the  present  time,  it  means  only  the  ground  inside  the 
limits  of  a  declared  Indian  Reservation.  A  squatter 
who  goes  over  that  line  to  sell  liquor  subjects  him- 
self to  fine  and  imprisonment,  but  he  can  put  his 
cabin  oi'  Avagon  immediately  on  the  state  side  of  the 
line,  and  sell  with  impunity  to  all  the  Indians  who 
come  to  him.  Whethei'  this  is  the  intent  of  the  law 
may  be  questioned,  but  that  it  is  the  actual  working 
of  the  law  is  perfectly  known  lo  every  frontiersman. 

With  the  enormous  profits  derived  from  the  business, 


Miii 


mimai 


;■.  -is  Jvi  -  ^i'j^  > '4*;^'  v^ "ii.»:*Aia. 


WHirPINO  A   HUSBAND. 


335 


?'■ 


ht 


If? 
to 


it  w.iild  take  an  annv  of  coiistaljlcs  and  marshals 
to  keep  the  frontier  dealers  from  selling  liquor  to 
Indians,  and  it  woukl  go  on  all  the  same,  even  if  the 
states  i)rohil)ited  it.  The  Indian  is  as  eager  for 
whiskey  as  the  trader  is  for  his  profits,  and  the  two 
together  will  outwit  all  the  "  myrmidons  of  tlie  law  " 
that  ean  he  sent  after  them. 

The  peculiarity  of  the  Indian  "  drunk,"  is  that  if 
there  he  only  liquor  enough,  it  is  quick  and  com- 
plete; consequently,  he  is  not  quarrelsome  in  his  cups. 
There  is  no  idea  of  conviviality.  The  beverage  is  far 
too  precious  to  be  shared,  and  the  fortunate  purchaser 
of  a  pint  of  whiskey  will  sneak  off  alone  into  a  thicket, 
arrange  a  comfortable  sleeping-place  for  himself,  turn 
ofl'  the  whole  quantity  at  a  draught,  then  lie  down  and 
get  drunk  and  sober  again  without  changing  his  po- 
sition or  disturbing  any  one.  For  the  number  of 
drunkards,  the  very  few  murders  or  outrages  com- 
mitted while  under  the  influence  of  drink  is  really 
remarkable.  I  have  never  yet  seen  a  drunken  Indian 
woman.  They,  however,  look  with  amiable  compla- 
cency on  the  bestiality  of  their  husbands,  and  seem 
to  regard  it  as  a  matter  of  course.  On  one  occasion 
I  Avitnessed  the  reverse.  A  Ute  squaw  was  trying 
to  take  home  her  husband,  who,  not  having  quite 
enough  whiskey,  was  only  "  obstinate  "  drunk.  She 
was  patient,  he  brutal.  Finally  he  struck  her.  Seiz- 
ing a  good-sized  rod,  she  fell  upon  and  beat  him 
unmercifully.  When  I  approached  to  interfere,  she 
threw  down  the  stick  and  began  to  laugh,  while  the 
warrior  husband  sat  upon  the  ground,  blubbering  like 
a  whipped  school-boy. 


=r=r:.J 


m 


■■J''  ■>-■;<»'■"'"'.■  ."W''.y""-'.c" ' 


■•'"  >*rsl  Vt^t  ■-  !7  T' ,"!; " 


'j;f^/V»'»Jt>r%v'^'' 


■:pi 


;'>■■ 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

INDIAX     AMUSEMENTS     AND     SPORTS  —  WONDERFUL 
FEATS    AND     MARVELLOUS    EXPLOITS. 

An  Incl?:in  Story  Teller  —  The  Favorite  of  the  Wonen  —  The  Sign 
Language  —  Outdoor  Sports  —  Life  in  the  Sadtllo  —  AVondcrful 
Feats  of  .  {crsemanship  -  ^Marvellous  Exploits  at  Full  Gallop  — 
Novel  Races  ~  An  Arrant  Jockey  -  Tricks  of  the  T)  adc  —  An  Adroit 
Conianclie  —  Mu-La-Qiie-Top's  Scheme  —  Sharp  Piactice  —  A  Sheep 
of  a  Pony  against  a  Kentucky  Mare  —  Fastest  Race  on  Record  — - 
A  Put-up  Job  —  Disgusted  Army  Officers  —  Bow  and  Arrow  Games  — 
Scandal  Mongers  —  Indian  Rumors  — The  Outbreak  at  Fort  Reno  — 
Beating  the  Telegraph  —  Incredible  Despatch  —  Scouts  and  Run- 
ners —  Something  New  aljout  Wives  —  Squaw  Fights  —  Oil'  with 
the  Wrong  Man  —  Facing  the  Consequences  —  An  Unequal  Contest. 


EXT  to  the  dance,  the  most  common 
and  i^opular  indoor  amusement  of  the 
Indians,  is  story-telling,  and  a  good 
story-teller  is  a  man  of  imi)ort.';nce. 
The  bucks,  squaws,  and  children,  crowd 
to  his  lodge,  or  to  any  other  where  he 
may  be,  and  spend  the  long  winter  even- 


ings in  listen'Uf^  to  his  recitals. 


These 
stories  are  as  marvellous  as  the  imagi- 
nation of  the  inventor  can  create,  jumbling  gods  and 
men,  fabulous  monstei*^  j'nd  living  animals,  tlie  pos- 
sible and  the  impossib.o  in  the  most  heterogeneous 
confusion.  There  is  little  point  or  wit  in  them,  and 
scarcely  any  dramatic  power,  except  the  narrator  be 
telling  of  some  personal  event,  when  he  also  acts  the 
scene  with  all  possible  exaggeration. 

886 


■■•■fi  ''fe'^jv-j  Y^T-'  v-':r  ■:i<'¥-''-y^;;s^'^ 


J  tj-sr- '  <,s"7c:-f 


•All 


STORY-TELLING. 


337 


Tne  personal  stories  are  generally  very  filthy,  and 
the  language  of  the  plainest.  They  have  no  evasive 
ways  of  expressing  things;  a  "spade  is  a  spade,"  with 
a  vengeance.  The  presence  of  women  and  children 
is  not  of  the  slightest  consequence,  and  imposes  no 
restraint,  either  in  words  or  action. 

One  of  the  most  curious  spectacles  is  a  story-teller 
and  his  audience,  when  the  sign-language  is  used. 
Sitting  or  squatting  in  every  position  whence  a  good 
view  can  be  had,  silent  and  eager,  all  eyes  are  intently 
fixed  on  the  story-teller,  who,  without  a  word  of 
speech,  is  rapidly  moving  his  hands,  now  one,  now 
the  other,  now  both  together.  Occasionally  a  grunt 
of  satisfaction  or  approval  runs  around  the  circle. 
More  and  more  eagerness  of  attention,  writhings  and 
twistings  of  body  and  limbs,  show  the  increase  of 
interest,  and  finally  a  burst  of  uproarious  laughter 
and  a])i)lause  marks  the  point  of  the  story. 

The  outdoor  amusements  of  the  Plains  Indians  are 
riding,  shooting,  racing,  both  on  foot  and  horseback, 
wrestling,  swimming,  and,  with  the  boys,  a  sort  of 
game  of  "tag."  In  good  weathei*  nearly  half  a  buck's 
waking  hours  are  passed  in  the  saddle.  Riding  is 
second  nature  to  him.  Strapj^ed  astride  of  a  horse 
when  scarcely  able  to  walk,  he  does  not,  when  a  man, 
remember  a  time  when  he  could  not  ride. 

Having  never  seen  the  riding  of  Arabs,  Turcomans, 
Cossacks,  and  other  world-renowned  riders,  I  cannot 
say  how  the  Indian  compares  with  them,  but  I  am 
satisfied  that  he  is  too  nearlv  a  Centaur  to  be  sur- 
passed  by  any. 

The  bit  most  commonly  used  among  the  southern 
Plains  Indians  is  known  as  the  "  Mexican  bit."  It  v, 
a  most  cruel  affoir. 


'I 


I':      1 


*..■ 


■  ^1  ■ 


•' '"""  ii'0'"wm*u.(4;ii>.mH,,i,Hg- 


Ifc 


i 


iii 


111 


'^vt^i 


f  f^ 


338 


IIORSJ;    EQUIPMEXT. 


Tlio  saddle  is  a  light  frame  of  wood,  the  side-pieces 
shaped  to  fit  a  he  •  3's  back.  The  seat  is  not  rounded, 
but  ahnost  perfectly  straight,  and  forms  very  nearly 
i-ight  angles  witli  the  ponnnel  and  cantle.  These  are 
about  eight  inches  higli  above  the  seat.  The  pommel 
ends  with  a  rounded  knob.  The  cantle,  rather  Avidc 
at  to[)  and  bottom,  is  c-ut  away  in  the  middle  to  make 
a  ?lcpre.>sion  to  til  the  leg  or  heel  of  the  rider,  and 
forms  his  snppoi't  when  he  wishes  to  thi-ow  himself 
on  the  side  of  his  horse.  Tlie  whole  is  covered  with 
green  hide,  which  in  drying  binds  all  the  parts  to- 
gether, tight  and  strong  almost  as  iron. 

The  girth  is  a  bioad  band  ol'])laited  hair,  terminat- 
ing in  iron  rings,  or  bent  wood,  covered  with  raw- 
hide, if  iron  rings  cannot  be  obtained.  These  rings 
are  attached  to  tlu^  saddle  on  the  in'inciple  of  the 
"^Mexican  cinche,"  by  which  a  man  of  ordinary 
strength  can  ahnost  crush  in  a  horse's  ribs. 

Great  liberties  of  ])osition  are  taken  by  an  Indian 
on  horseback,  and  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that 
the  saddle  be  strong,  and  the  girth  fail  not. 

The  stirrup  is  of  thin  wood,  strengthened  with  raw- 
hide, by  which  material  it  is  also  fastened  to  the  sad- 
dle. Some  slight  padding  is  put  between  the  horse 
and  a  saddle,  the  skin  of  a  wolf  or  buffalo  calf,  or  in 
these  later  days,  a  piece  of  old  blanket  oi-  grain  sack. 
The  stirrups  are  extremely  short.  They  are  of  little 
use,  cxcej)t  in  mounting,  or  as  rests  to  the  foot  when 
riding. 

Civilized  people  mount  on  the  left  side  of  the  horse, 
because  the  knights  of  old,  from  whom  we  get  our 
ideas  of  liorsemanshij),  wore  their  swords  on  that 
side,  and  could  not,  therefore,  mount  (m  the  right 
without  inconvenience  from  that  weapon. 


■:■?'.  ^iJiT^f^* ,".!.», 


UNGRACEFUL    RIDERS. 


339 


The  Indian  mour.ts  always  on  the  right  side,  and 
this  is  nndonbtedly  natural  and  most  convenient,  as  it 
leaves  the  left  hand  free  to  hold  the  reins  and  manage 
the  horse,  while  the  right  grasps  the  mane  or  j)oinmel 
of  the  saddle. 

In  travelling,  necessary  stores  arc  carried  en  cronpe, 
or  slung  to  the  saddle  on  each  side.  One  l)lanket  or 
robe  is  around  the  rider's  person,  and  he  sits  on 
another  one  if  he  has  it.  His  gun  is  carried  across 
his  thighs,  resting  against  the  ponnnel,  his  bow  and 
quiver  are  slung  on  the  back  by  a  strap  ])assing  from 
right  to  left,  but  which  brings  the  quiver  almost 
perpendicular  with  its  oi)ening  over  the  right  shoulder. 

When  travelling  from  place  to  place,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  a  more  unromantic  or  less  dangerous- 
|o(dviiig  specimen  could  not  be  found  than  an  Indian 
warrior.  His  seat  and  carriage  are  particularly 
ungraceful.  The  short  stirrups  foi'ce  him  to  sit 
almost  on  the  small  of  his  back,  and  the  back  itself  is 
rounded  into  an  unseemly  curve.  His  head  is  carried 
forward  as  far  as  the  length  of  his  neck  will  allow. 
His  left  hand  holds  the  reins;  his  i-ight  is  armed 
with  a  short  stick,  to  which  is  attached  a  thong 
of  tlie  inevitable  rawhide,  and  with  a  light  blow  of 
this  he  mai'ks  every  step  of  his  horse.  He  uses  no 
spurs,  but  his  heels  are  constantly  drunnning  on  the 
hoi-sc's  ribs,  with  a  nei'vous  motion  difl'cult  to  account 
for.  He  scarcely  evei'  turns  his  head  or  moves  his 
body,  and,  even  when  most  wnlchful,  appears  to  see 
nothing.  He  looks  stilF,  constrained  and  uncomfort- 
able on  horseback,  and  yvi  this  uncouth  object  will 
j)erform  feats  of  horsemanshij)  actually  incredible  to 
one  who  has  seen  only  civilized  I'iding. 

With  his  horse  at  full  speed,  he  will  pick  xfi)  from 


4 


,v;.l 


"***  .I'yi  ':»'•'"■'  ■  '.*" 


.f-r'-V"  '.^Y'  f\:_ 


'^f.  -■V'W"  .■''•r;''' '« .; 


;;.-"■"  r9^_''';'y^Tyh 


340 


TRAINED   POXIES. 


■ 
•■I 


'%. 


the  ground  a  small  piece  of  coin.  He  will  throw 
himself  on  the  side  of  his  horse,  in  such  a  position, 
that  only  a  small  portion  of  an  arm  and  leg  can  be 
seen  from  the  other  side. 

One  method  of  racing  is  to  start  from  a  line,  and 
rush  full  speed  at  a  tree,  the  one  who  first  touches 
it  being  winner.  Another  is  to  rush  at  a  heavy  pole 
placed  hoi-izontally  about  six  feet  from  the  ground, 
resting  on  forks  fiimly  set.  If  the  I'ider  stops  his 
horse  an  instant  too  soon  he  fails  of  touching  the  pole, 
if  an  instant  too  late,  the  horse  passes  under  the  pole, 
leaving  the  rider  dangling  to  it,  or  thrown  to  the 
ground. 

A  third  method  is  to  fasten  to  the  ground,  two 
strips  of  bullalo-hide  from  six  to  ten  feet  apart.  The 
starting-point  is  some  two  hundred  yards  from  these 
strips,  and  the  game  is  to  run  at  full  s})eed,  jump  the 
horse  betAveen  the  strips,  turn  him  in  his  tracks,  and 
return  to  the  starting-point.  The  horse  which  fails 
to  get  beyond  the  first  strij),  with  all  four  of  his  feet, 
or  which  gets  a  single  foot  beyond  the  second  strip, 
is  beaten,  even  though  he  makes  the  best  time. 

The  training  of  the  ])onies  has  quite  as  much  to  do 
with  the  success  of  an  Indian  race  as  his  speed  or  the 
address  of  the  rider.  Great  pains  are,  therefore, 
taken  in  training,  and  a  pony  thoroughly  up  in  his 
tricks  is  highly  prized. 

The  Indian  is  an  arrant  jockey,  and  understands  all 
the  tricks  of  jirofessional  horse-racing  as  well  as  any 
veteran  of  Jerome  Park.  lie  rarely  comes  in 
competition  with  whites,  because  his  passion  being 
for  trick  races,  as  those  dcscril)ed,  he  dislikes  to 
come  down  to  a  square  and  fair  race  over  a  straight 
track.  "^^  Besides  this,  it  is  reall}-  exceedingly  difficult 


& 


\'.'v«-7":.f  :''"?V-?t\-i;^'^,7^i'.'*f-)^-'^i^ 


ie 


A2f   INDLVN   RACE-IIORSE. 


341 


to  hit  on  a  fair  distance  between  the  Indian  and 
American  horse.  The  start  being  always  from  a  halt, 
the  small,  qnick  pony  is  almost  sure  to  win  at  from 
one  hundred  to  three  hundred  yards,  while  the  long 
stride  of  the  American  horse  is  equally  sure  of 
carrying  him  in  winner  from  six  hundred  yards  to 
two  miles.  A  mile  or  two  is  then  doubtful,  after 
which  it  is  safe  to  back  the  endurance  of  the  pony. 
•  A  band  of  Comanches  under  Mu-la-que-toji,  once 
camped  near  Fort  Chadbourne  in  Texas,  and  were 
frequent  visitors  and  great  nuisances  as  beggars  at 
that  post.  Some  of  the  officers  were  decidedly 
"  horsey,"  several  owning  blooded  horses,  the  relative 
speed  of  each  being  known,  by  repeated  trials,  almost 
to  a  foot.  Mu-la-que-top  was  bantered  for  a  race, 
and,  after  severid  days  of  manoeuvring,  a  race  was 
made  against  the  third  best  horse  of  the  garrison, 
distance  four  hundred  yards. 

Tiic  Indians  betted  robes  and  plundei;  of  various 
kinds,  to  the  value  of  sixty  or  seventy  dollars,  against 
money,  flour,  siigar,  &c.,  to  a  like  amount.  At  the 
ap[)ointed  time  all  the  Indians  and  most  of  the  garrison 
were  assembled  at  the  track.  The  Indians  "  showed  " 
a  miseral)le  sheep  of  a  pony,  with  legs  like  churns;  a 
three-inch  coat  of  I'ough  hair  stuck  out  all  over  the 
body;  and  a  general  expression  of  neglect,  helpless- 
ness, and  patient  suffering  struck  pity  into  the  hearts 
of  all  beholders.  The  rider  was  a  stalwart  buck  of 
one  hundred  and  seventy  pounds,  looking  big  and 
strong  enough  to  cany  the  poor  beast  on  his 
shoulders.  He  was  armed  with  a  huge  club,  with 
which,  after  the  word  was  given,  he  belabored  the 
miserable  animal  from  start  to  finish.  To  the  astonish- 
ment of  all  the  whites,  the  Indian  won  by  a  neck. 

22 


,-i 


.,.^ 


■>  1 


•^:^?imifmmf*'imi'!'>m^^H''''- 


342 


JOCKEYED. 


!    I 


!       [ 


n 


Another  race  was  proposed  by  the  officers,  and, 
after  much  "dickering,"  accepted  by  the  Indians, 
against  the  next  best  horse  of  the  garrison.  The  l)ets 
were  doubled;  and  in  less  than  an  hour  the  second 
race  was  run  by  the  same  pony,  with  the  same 
apjiarent  exertion  and  with  exactly  the  same  result. 

The  officers,  thoroughly  disgusted,  pi'oposed  a  tliird 
race,  and  brought  to  the  ground  a  magnificent  Ken- 
tucky mare,  of  the  true  Lexington  blood,  and  known 
to  beat  the  best  of  the  others  at  least  forty  j^ards  in  four 
hundred.  The  Indians  accepted  the  race,  and  not  only 
doul)led  bets  as  before,  but  piled  up  everytliing  llicy 
could  raise,  seemingly  almost  crazed  with  the  excite- 
ment of  their  previous  success.  The  riders  mounted; 
the  word  was  given.  Throwing  away  his  club,  the 
Indian  rider  gave  a  whoop,  at  which  the  sheei)-like 
pony  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  went  away  like  the 
wind,  almost  two  feet  to  the  mare's  one.  The  last 
fifty  yards  of  the  course  was  rini  l)y  the  pony  with 
the  rider  sitting  face  to  his  tail,  making  hideous 
grimaces  and  beckoning  to  the  rider  of  the  mare  to 
come  on. 

It  afterwards  transpired  that  the  old  sheep  was  a 
trick  and  straight  race  pony,  celebrated  among  all 
the  tribes  of  the  south,  and  that  Mu-la-(jue-toj)  had 
only  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  the  Kicka[)o()s,  in 
the  Indian  nati<m,  whom  he  had  easily  cleaned  ont  of 
six  hundred  ])onies. 

In  practising  with  bow  and  arrow,  the  Indian  has 
a  short  loop  of  rawhide  attaclied  to  the  ponnnel  of 
his  saddle,  which  he  passes  over  his  head,  and 
under  his  arm  when  he  wishes  to  throw  Inmself  on 
the  side  of  his  horse.  This,  with  the  leg  holding  the 
cantle,  gives  him  firm  support,  and  leaves  both  arms 


!/,i;"'~v'^*T^'V'^f'.    '  ^  V^>T>'^|■>'T>V.'7■^7J7 'T  *  it  'i^'i^.i^T-ls*')?, 


"r"-- 


GO-AS-YOU-PLEASE . 


343 


free.  lie  can,  however,  use  only  the  right  side  of  the 
horse.  In  pistol-practice,  the  loop  is  not  necessary, 
and  needing  only  one  hand  with  the  weapon,  he  can 
shelter  himself  on  either  side,  holding  on  to  the 
pommel  with  the  left  hand. 

With  all  his  power  of  endurance,  his  life  in  the 
open  air,  and  his  constant  and  violent  exercise,  the 
Indian  is  not  physically  a  povverful  man.  lie  has  not 
the  sHghtest  knowledge  of  the  use  of  his  fists,  and  the 
l^oorest  memher  of  the  prize  ring  could  cai'ry  off  the 
belt  from  the  whole  red  race.  A  short  time  ago  a 
squaw  man  and  Indian  near' this  post,  got  into  an 
altercation  about  the  use  of  a  horse.  The  white  man 
finally  struck  the  Indian  with  his  fist.  The  latter, 
though  a})parently  uuich  the  more  powerful  man, 
made  no  effort  to  return  the  blow,  but  went  at  once 
to  the  chief  with  a  claim  for  damages.  I  have  never 
heard  of  a  fist-fight  between  Indians. 

The  boys  wrestle  a  good  deal,  but  without  rule  or 
science,  a  mere  scufHe.  An  average  white  man  will 
"get  away"  with  tlic  strongest  and  most  active 
Indian,  either  in  a  wrestling-nuitch,  or  in  a  foot-race 
for  short  distances.  In  a  race  for  miles  the  Indian 
endurance  will  win  against  any  ordinary  white  man, 
])ut  no  Indian,  in  his  natural  condition,  could  compete 
with  one  of' our  trained  "go-as-you-please"  racers. 
Having  no  idea  of  the  effect  of  ti'aining  on  horses  and 
men,  the  Indians  cannot  be  made  to  believe  that  a 
man  can  get  ovei"  five  hundi'cd  and  fifty  miles  in  six 
days. 

All  Indians  swim,  as  it  were  by  instinct,  and  evince 
gi'cat  courage  and  skill  in  the  jiassage  of  the  Plains 
rivers,  dangerous  from  their  swift  currents,  and  terri- 
ble from  their  treacherous  quicksands. 


mm^  '''miimmmmtmsmmmm': 


344 


IXDIAN  RXJMOllS. 


Among  the  middle  Plains  tribes  there  are  no  games 
of  ball,  nor  any  approach  to  the  games  of  white 
children,  except  the  game  of  "tag"  mentioned;  bnt 
among  the  Nez  Perccs  jmuI  other  western  tribes  the 
women  are  extremely  fond  of  a  game  of  ball  similar  to 
our  "  shinny  "  or  "  hockey,"  and  play  with  great  si)irit. 

The  women  ride  astride,  mount  on  the  right  side, 
use  the  same  saddle,  and  are  almost  as  much  at  home 
on  it  as  the  men,  though,  not  having  the  same  constant 
drill,  they  cannot  perform  the  same  marvellous  feats. 

Where  no  one  can  connnit  a  moral  wi'ong,  there 
would  aj>pear  to  be  no  oi)portunity  for  what  we  call 
scandal,  yet  eveiy  act,  incident,  accident  or  condition 
is  common  talk  for  the  whole  band,  to  be  discussed 
broadly,  and  without  i-eservation,  by  old  and  young, 
male  and  female.  The  broad  caricatures  of  the  tattle 
of  a  New  England  village  are  merely  faint  concep- 
tions of  the  capabilities  in  this  direction  of  an  Indian 
encam])ment.  Each  band  being  scai-cely  more  than 
one  lai-ge  family,  every  individual  in  it  is  interested 
in  eveiything  to  such  an  extent,  that  it  is  scarcely  too 
much  to  say  that  there  is  absolutely  nothing  secret. 

All  pers(ms  who  have  been  much  among  Indians 
are  astounded  at  the  wonderful  speed  and  accuracy 
of  Indian  rumors.  Something  occui's  to-day;  it  is 
known  to-moi-row  at  distances  that  aj)i)ear  incredible. 
In  8epteml)ei-,  1880,  an  outbreak  occurred  at  Foit 
Reno,  sixty  miles  from  this  j)Ost,  (Cantomnent,  I.  T.) 
The  Indian  scouts  here  knew  and  informed  me  of  it 
before  I  heard  of  it  by  the  telegraph  line  l)etAvecn  the 
two  posts.  So,  also,  when  Ouray  was  sick;  his  con- 
dition was  known  every  day  by  us,  though  we  were 
fpiite  a  hundred  miles  away,  and  the  country  between 
us  exceedingly  dilheult. 


"'Tt;,!»w 


AN  ENERGETIC   WIFE. 


345 


In  civilized  communities,  whether  rightfully  or  not, 
old  maids  and  widows  have  credit  for  the  monopoly 
of  the  gossip  and  tattle.  Among  Indians  it  helongs 
to  the  old  men;  and  from  the  appearance  and  qualities 
of  the  youngest  colt,  to  the  number  and  color  of  the 
stri[)es  on  every  wonuuTs  shawl,  these  old  fellows 
know  and  talk  of  everything. 

I  have  said  that  an  unmarried  woman  must  never 
be  found  alone,  and  it  would  be  the  height  of  impro- 
priety for  her  to  go  anywhei'c  with  any  man  except 
her  father.  They  ai'e  exceedingly  fond  of  gadding 
about,  and  easily  overcome  the  dillicultics  tin-own  in 
theii-  way  by  custom.  Half  a  dozen  gii'ls  and  your.g 
married  women  will  [)lace  themselves  in  charge  of 
some  old  lady  fi'iend,  under  whose  chaperonage  they 
go  when  and  where  they  please,  and  usually  with 
perfi'ct  safety. 

Some  wi'iters  claim  for  Indian  women  such  an 
excess  of  loyaltv,  as  to  assert  that  they  hold  in  con- 
temi)t  one  of  their  number  who  fails  to  do  everything 
possible  for  her  husband. 

I  have  no  experience  of  any  such  feeling.  Each 
of  the  several  wives  of  a  man  has  her  own  ])ecu- 
liarities;  one  la/y,  another  active,  one  neat,  another 
slovenly;  but  as  a  i-ule  all  seem  to  get  along  perfectly 
well  together,  and  with  the  other  women  of  the  band. 

One  of  the  wives  of  my  Cheyenne  friend,  Mr. 
Running  Bullalo,  is  an  exception,  l^eing  so  emphatic 
in  her  speech  and  action,  that  Bulfalo  is  obliged  to 
let  her  have  an  establishment  of  her  own. 

This,  looked  at  rightly,  may  be  regarded  as  a  first 
ste})  in  civilization.  No  high  order  of  civilization  is 
possible  without  the  advancement  and  indei)endence 
of  women;  and  in  fact,  the  present  jjrogress  of  each 


m 


Mi 
k 


!  «w-iiM!iii)iiMu«yi^r<(ensKt»8g^.,5l^agjggg,jij,^^^ 


U6 


A   COURAGEOUS   MOTHER. 


,   I 


nation  and  people  from  tlie  utmost  degradation  to  the 
highest  enlightenment,  ean  be  fairly  and  aeeurately 
measured  by  the  condition  of  its  women. 

I  have  heard  frequent  desori[)tions  of  the  squaw- 
fights  of  the  Indians  on  tlie  Paeific  coast,  in  which 
eveiy  woman  of  the  band  is  engaged,  each  a})par- 
ently  on  her  own  account,  while  the  men  stand  around 
laughing,  applauding,  and  encouraging.  Xo  such 
performances  take  place  among  the  Phiins  Indians. 
Men,  w^omen,  and  children,  all  are  less  disposed  to 
quarrel  and  wrangle  than  any  people  I  have  ever  seen. 

A  rather  amusing  instance  of  personal  collision 
occurred  near  this  post  in  the  spring  of  18S0.  The 
Cheyenne  w^ife  of  a  Mexican  half-breed,  had,  tw^o 
years  ago,  left  her  husband  for  another  man,  taking 
with  her,  as  is  unusual,  her  child,  a  l)a])y  of  a  few 
months  old.  The  band  to  which  the  Mexican  belongs 
makes  its  summer  camp  near  this  post.  Last  Aj)ril 
the  runaway  wife  and  new  husband  came  here.  The 
Mexican  heard  of  it,  went  to  them  and  demanded  his 
child.  The  Indian  husband  told  him  to  take  it,  but 
the  wife  would  not  give  it  u}).  He  went  off  and 
returned  with  the  chief,  who  ordered  the  woman  to 
give  up  the  child.  She  again  refused,  when  the  two 
proceeded  to  take  it  by  foice.  This  was  too  much 
for  the  mother,  who,  throAvlng  the  child  to  her  Indian 
husband,  assaulted  her  two  enemies  so  vigorously, 
that  in  two  minutes  both  were  soundly  beaten  and 
glad  to  escape.  Before  they  could  return  with  assist- 
ance, the  child  and  its  courageous  mother  were  out 
of  reach. 

Ten  years  ago,  that  woman  would  have  been 
hunted  down  by  dog -soldiers  and  killed  without 
remorse.     l!^ow  the  alfair  is  only  a  njatter  of  fun  and 


child's  play. 


347 


laughter  to  every  Indian,  except  the  half-breed  and 
the  chief.     Tlie  Indian  progresses! 

The  little  girls  are  very  fond  of  dolls,  and  their 
mothers  take  great  pains  and  show  considerable  skill 
in  making  them.  Their  dresses  are  frequently  ac- 
curately copied,  even  to  the  minutest  particulars, 
from  tiie  ceremonial  dresses  of  the  parents  or  friends. 

The  baby-houses  are  miniature  teepes,  and  until 
large  enough  to  be  put  to  work,  most  of  the  waking 
lioui-s  of  the  girls  are  spent  in  this  play. 


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CHAPTER  XXVn. 


'.V 


fe- 


INDIAJSr   MUSIC   AND    MUSICIANS  —  CURIOUS   MTTSICAJ. 
LNSTRUMENTS  —  POETKY   AND   SONGS. 

Indian  ]\Iusical  Instruments  —  The  Cheyenne  Tom-tom  —  A  Curious 
Work  —  Constructive  Skill  —  My  Wonderful  Present  —  The  Sioux 
Rattle  —  "  Flutes  and  Soft  Recorders  "  — Weird  but  Winsome  Notes  — 
An  Indian  Serenade  —  The  War  Song — The  Indian  "German"  — 
Thrilled  with  Military  Frenzy  —  Transported  with  Adoration  — 
"  Songs  Without  Woi'ds  "  —  Permanence  of  Indian  Music  —  The 
Cek'ljration  of  Valor  —  Selection  of  the  Tune  —  Fitting  the  Words  — 
Praotising  in  Chorus  —  I'fight  After  Night  at  Work  —  The  Song 
Completed  —  Odd  Indian  Melodies  —  Every  One  Ilis  Own  Poet — 
The  Cheyenne  Courting  Song  —  ^Vinning  a  Married  Woman's 
Love  —  The  Conditional  Elopement  —  The  Round  Dance  —  Music 
of  the  Kiss  Dance  —  Wild  Notes  Recovered  —  An  Interesting  Result. 


HE  drum,  or  "  tom-tom,"  is  the  univer- 
sal, I  may  almost  say,  the  only  musical 
instrument  of  the  Indians,  for  though 
there  are  others,  no  use  whatever  is 
made  of  them  on  public  occasions  by 
the  middle  and  southern  Plains  Indi- 
ans. The  drum  is  the  accompaniment 
to  every  religious  ceremony,  the  necessity 
to  every  social  gathering.  Its  beat  signals 
the  hour  of  rejoicing,  the  hour  of  mourning,  and  by 
its  potent  influence  the  Bad  God  is  not  unfrequently 
frustrated  in  his  diabolic  designs. 

The  primitive  di'uni  was  a  section  cut  fr6m  the 
trunk  of  a  hollow  tree,  over  one  end  of  which  was 
stretched  and  tightly  fastened  a  thin  raw  skin.      At 

348 


«?.< 


;rj;.\-r^.vv 


v-pT(- ('*■«-«--' 


THE   TOM-TOM. 


349 


l)rcseiit,  an  empty  nail  or  piclde  keg  is  often  used, 
but  the  fashionable  and  preferred  "  tom-tom  "  of  the 
Cheyenne  Indians  is  made  by  stretching  the  raw  skin 
over  a  common  cheese-box. 

There  is  usually  no  arrangement  of  drum-cords  for 
tightening  this  head,  and  when  it  becomes  loose  and 
flabby  from  continued  beating,  it  is  restored  to  its 
original  tone  by  holding  it  over  a  fire,  sometimes  a 
little  water  being  first  sprinkled  on  it.  In  any  length- 
ened ceremony,  or  at  the  social  dances,  a  fire  is  always 
kept  up  for  tightening  the  drum-head. 

In  the  fall  of  1880, 1  was  so  fortunate  as  to  be  pre- 
sented by  a  Cheyenne  with  a  wonderful  drum,  the 
handiwork  of  some  Indian  of  more  than  ordinary 
constructive  skill.  The  body  is  the  rough  keg,  in 
which  was  transported  two  large  round  cheeses.  A 
raw  skin  is  stretched  over  each  end  and  connected 
by  thongs  of  rawhide,  laced  after  the  manner  of  an 
ordinary  kettle-drum.  Another  thong  around  the 
keg  is  looped  about  each  two  lacings,  and  forms  an 
ingenious  means  of  tightening  the  drum-heads. 

This  is  the  only  Indian  tom-tom  I  have  ever  seen 
with  two  heads.  Its  constructor  evidently  modelled 
it  after  the  infantry  drum. 

The  Sioux  and  some  other  of  the  northern  Plains 
Indians,  have  another  (to  them)  musical  instrument, — 
a  rattle  formed  of  a  dried  gourd  in  which  are  placed 
a  number  of  small  smooth  stones. 

Almost  all  the  tribes  have  a  reed  instrument,  a  pipe 
or  flute,  ingeniously  constructed.  Two  pieces  of 
wood  are  fashioned  and  hollowed  out,  so  that  when 
joined  together  they  have  much  the  appearance  of  a 
flute.  In  one  of  these  are  made  six  holes  for  the 
fingers,  and  one  nearer  the  mouth,  after  the  manner 


''■\''. 


■•Jf.) 


P. 


\- 


-V 


350 


OTHER  MUSICAL   INSTRUMENTS. 


^' 


*' 

i'i#: 


,':*'■' 


of  a  whistle.  After  being  smoothed  and  fitted  with 
great  patience  and  care,  the  two  pieces  are  glued 
together  with  gum,  and  tightly  bound  with  strings. 
A  small  tube  at  the  upper  end  is  the  mouth-piece. 
They  are  very  frequently  elaborately  ornamented. 
The  tone  is  quite  soft  and  harmonious. 

Though  there  are  more  or  less  of  these  instruments 
in  every  band  of  Indians,  they  are  never  used  on 
ceremonious  or  festive  occasions,  nor  have  I  ever 
heard  an  Indian  attempt  to  play  what  even  he  might 
call  a  tunc.  The  only  music  on  them  is  the  repetition 
again  and  again  of  a  few  chords,  low,  slow,  and  some- 
times very  sweet  and  weird.  It  is  scarcely  ever  heard 
in  the  daytime,  but  after  dark  the  love-sick  youngster, 
placing  h'  nself  beside  the  lodge  of  his  inamorata, 
pours  out  the  feelings  of  his  heart  in  most  doleful 
strains. 

The  Pawnees,  Cheyennes,  and  Arrapahoes  have 
yet  another  instrument.  About  an  inch  of  the  toe 
of  a  buffalo's  hoof  is  cut  off  and  dried.  A  small 
hole  is  made  in  the  apex  of  this  shell,  through  which 
is  passed  a  buckskin  string.  A  knot  in  one  end  of 
the  string  prevents  the  toe  from  slii)ping  off.  Twenty 
or  thirty  of  these  toes  are  tied  to  a  stick,  with  a  few 
inches'  play  to  each,  and  the  insti'umcnt  is  complete. 
It  is  held  in  the  hand  of  the  dancer  and  makes  a  dry 
rattling  noise. 

For  music  for  all  warlike  and  religious  ceremonies, 
for  gambling  bouts,  for  dances,  for  all  social  gather- 
ings and  merry-makings,  the  Indian  relies  on  his 
voice.  Scarcely  anything  is  done  without  this  music, 
and  similar  and  monotonous  as  it  all  appears  to  be  to 
the  uninstructed  ear,  each  particular  ceremony  and 
dance  has  its  owu  invariable  nuisic. 


^:'^^-: 


>if, 


SONGS. 


351 


Pi'obal3ly  fi-om  lack  of  education  T  can  with  dlfH- 
culty  toll  a  war  song  from  any  song  of  the  Indian 
*'  German,"  yet  the  music  of  the  one  will  put  the 
Indian  in  a  frenzy  of  military  ardor,  the  music  of  the 
other  throw  him  only  into  transports  of  passionate 
adoration  of  his  partner  in  the  dance. 

Many  of  the  songs  have  words,  but  by  far  the 
greater  number  are  "songs  without  words,"  but  to 
which  words  may  be  adapted  on  special  occasions. 
The  words  constantly  vary,  the  music  never. 

The  adaptation  of  words  to  a  S])ecial  song  is  fre- 
quently a  matter  of  grave  importance.  A  party  of 
warriors  returning  from  a  successful  foray,  must 
embalm  their  exploits  in  song.  They  have  decided 
on  the  music,  but  the  work  l)cforG  them  is  to  fit  woi*ds 
to  it  which  will  be  expressive  and  most  highly  eulogis- 
tic, not  only  of  the  performances  of  the  party,  but  of 
each  individual  who  has  distinguished  himself.  I^ight 
aftc!'  night  is  spent  in  this  grand  effort.  One  man 
will  proposo  a  line;  all  try  the  effect  by  singing  it  in 
chorus.  If  satisfactory,  it  is  adopted ;  if  not,  rejected 
or  amended.  The  song  must  be,  and  is,  ready  by  the 
time  they  get  home,  and  on  the  first  occasion  there- 
after is  sung  to  the  pride  and  gratification  of  all. 

So  also  in  other  songs.  One  man  will  adapt  a  set 
of  words,  whose  appropriateness  to  some  situation  or 
personal  peculiai'ity  Avill  make  them  popilar  for  a 
little  while,  or  until  another  set  of  words  displaces 
them.  Even  the  nursery  songs  of  the  mothers  are  a 
mere  jumble,  no  two  mothers  using  the  same  words, 
though  singing  the  same  song. 

Occasionally  a  thought  may  be  expressed  with 
somewhat  poetic  metaphor,  but  the  Plains  Indians 
are  utterly  ignorant  of  rhyme,  or  metrical  arrange- 


352 


A  COURTING  SONG. 


CI?-/ 


ment  of  verse,  and  seem  incapable  of  following  a 
thought  beyond  its  first  expression. 

Indian  songs  are  very  curious,  and  though  on  all 
subjects,  what  may  be  termed  the  mechanism  is  the 
same  in  all.  An  isolated  thought  is  exj^ressed  in  a 
few  words,  possibly  in  one  compound  word.  This, 
followed  by  a  number  of  meaningless  sounds  suffi- 
cient to  fill  out  the  music  to  the  end  of  the  beat, 
constitutes  the  first  line  or  verse.  The  other  lines 
are  constructed  in  the  same  manner.  Whatever  is 
intended  to  be  said  is  generally  expressed  in  four 
lines  or  verses,  though  some  of  the  songs  have  many 
lines. 

The  constant  use  of  sounds  without  meaning,  to 
fill  up  gaps  in  the  lines,  makes  it  easy  for  any  Indian 
to  be  his  or  her  own  poet.  It  accounts  also  for  the 
little  weight  that  words  give  to  Indian  music,  and  the 
slight  hold  they  take  on  the  memory. 

As  a  fair  example  of  the  songs  with  words,  I  give 
the  love-song  of  a  3^oung  Cheyenne  warrior  Avho 
courted  a  marrir  1  woman.  Ila  yah,  ha  a  yah,  are  not 
words,  but  represent  sounds  interjected  to  fill  out  the 
lines,  — 

"  O  ta,  ha  yn.  ha  a  yah,  ha  yah 
Ne  c  am  e,  ha  a  yali,  ha  yali 
Ne  yiR'li  te  e  Iiow  o  to  o,  Iia  j-ah,  ha 
Nas  o  wi  e,  ha  yah  ha  yah,  ha." 

••  I  am  your  lovc^r.  ha  ya,  Iia  a  yali,  ha  yah, 
I  am  not  afraid  to  court  you,  ha  a  yah,  ha  yah 
Thou<;h  you  have  a  brave  husband,  ha  yah,  ha 
Will  you  elope  with  me?  ha  yah,  ha  yah  ha." 

Her  answer  is,  — 

"  Ilame  e  nooch  o  hah  ha  ha  ha  yo  o 
IIo  ochc  ish  it  tali,  ha  ha  ha  ha  yo 
Im  e  go  o  ha  torn  e  to,  ha  ha  yo  o 
Im  e  am  ah  to  o  she,  ha  yo  ha  o." 


VifrfCV* 


a 

lall 

[he 

a 

Ms, 


SOIVGS   WITHOUT   WORDS.  353 

"  I  will  loavfi  my  hnsliand,  hah  ha  ha  ha  ha  yo  o 
But  attend  to  what  I  say  to  yon,  ha  ha  ha  ha  yo 
You  must  be  good  to  me,  ha  lia,  yo  e 
And  not  make  love  to  other  women,  ha  yo,  ha  o." 

BeloAv  is  a  specimen  of  a  song  without  words,  but 
no  spelling  can  do  justice  to  the  sounds  produced:  — 

•'  Ila  a  e  ha  e  yo.  ha  a  e  yo,  a  ha  e  yo 
Ha  a  e  a  e  yah,  ah  ha  o  yah 
Ha  a  e  a  e  yah  ha  how  e  yah 
How  ow  o  how  o  how  o  o." 

All  Indians  use  the  nose  as  a  musical  instrument, 
especially  in  the  high  notes.  The  lower  tones  are 
guttural,  and  the  "  ha  yah,"  being  as  it  were,  beaten 
out  of  their  bodies  by  the  coming  down  of  the  feet  in 
the  dance,  is  moi-e  like  a  grunt  than  a  musical  sound. 
The  soiigs  without  words  contain  a  great  variety  of 
sounds,  guttural,  nasal,  and  natural,  but  generally  all 
within  one  octave,  though  the  sound  designated  in 
the  music  as  "  e  "  is  habitually  pitched  far  above. 

I  ])rocured  the  services  of  Mr.  Aschmann,  the  leader 
of  the  band  of  the  23d  U.  S.  Infantry  to  reduce  this 
nuisic  to  score.  The  general  similarity  is  so  great 
that  I  give  only  a  few  illustrations.  Mr.  Aschmann 
says,  "  The  rhythm  of  Indian  music  is,  as  a  whole,  very 
j)oor.  Almost  every  song  keeps  within  the  limits  of 
one  octave,  without  change  or  eflbrt  for  harmonious 
melody.  It  is  very  seldom,  however,  that  they  bring 
in  notes  from  different  keys,  or  make  other  innova- 
tions sufRcient  to  make  the  music  discordant  or  un- 
pleasant to  listen  to.  Bagpipes  or  reed  instruments 
are  best  adapted  to  reproduce  the  Indian  music." 

I  am  indebted  for  the  words  of  the  songs  to  Mr. 
Ben  Clarke,  the  interpreter  at  Fort  Reno,  Indian 
Territory. 


A; 


■.4i'. 


354 


INDIAX   DAXCE   MUSIC. 


Round  Dauce. 


tT-r-^-^- 


-I — I 


Ha    ha   yah    ha       Iia      e      yah  ha  ha    yafi"  ha     ha 


I-T^. 


b^: 


ha    e       lia  yah  yaTTlI^ha  yah    a       yo  ha  yah  a  yoyahha 


I  p. 


fi 


:p:|^ 


:^^-ppi 


^^^fiflmrw- 


ha        e        yah  ha     o        yo       a        ha        yah  e       ha  lia 


I; 


ha  ha  yah    e      lia  ha  ah  yalT  ha  a  yah      e      yah  ha 


Wt 


.it_.,,^__,: 


:3-l:i:«i 


^G^'^^iP^^^j 


Repeat  ad  libitum 

1 


:4=d: 


yah     ha    yah  yah  ha       aoo  yoha       aoo  yo  owyohowo. 


Kiss  Dance. 


w 


:=t; 


i«~-q3t» 


^^^^^^fTTL^^ 


p 


-yrff'-fi-f-.r^^i.-*  »^-^-iii:y7  . -'i'v  )' jt'"^-.*'  - «',  ««j^  ■#*'■•  .iPt'.T, , '  ;""'^'*:f  ;^'if;f^"»«^"  ^'_,.''ii'-'^''. '-;  ■'  "'~^,';j;'  T'X^'  ('^-'^TV^'**'"'  v  *"*'''l''' 


mDIAN   DANCE   MUSIC. 


355 


^ 


Gambling  Song. 


yi;? 


3 


./ 


ii*! 


:^S^ 


Sign  Dance. 


fcE^^ 


/ 


U^Uii 


~fc:p=:: 


^ 


^ 


s=y=, 


/ 


#1 


5=t==|t-: 


£^ 


:st 


^i 


P 


War  Dance. 


ti^ 


i^ 


*l*:S^^gm^ 


-"^•-*-T^i 


A  yah  e  ha     a  yo  a    a  yo       e  yo    a  yo   e    a  yah  e  ha  yah  e 


yo       e  yo   e   yo        ha      e  ha   e    yo        ha      o  owow  how. 


■I 
■t.     i 


t,!*;: 


;-;'>•  ■ 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


INDIAN    DANCES  —  SCENES     OF    WILD      EXCITEMENT 
AND   FKENZY  —  LUDICllOUS    EXPERIENCES. 

Indian  Dancinj;  Customs — Preparations  for  the  Scalp  Dance  —  A  Hid- 
eons  Picti  i-o  —  Tiie  Circle  of  Wands  —  On  the  Border  of  Frenzy  — 
Bringing  Out  Oltl  Scalps  —  Enlisting  for  the  War  —  "Striking  thn 
Post "  —  My  First  Sight  of  a  Scalj)  Dance  —  Prisoners  Gracing  th" 
Ceremony  —  A  Boy's  Pluck  —  Exasjjeratod  by  Ridicule  —  Begging 
Dance  —  Reconciling  Old  Foes  —  Interesting  Incident  of  Crook's 
Campaign  —  Indian  Dijjlomacy  —  Disasti'ous  Blow  to  New-mado 
Friends  —  Impoverished  by  Hugs  —  The  Lost  Chance — An  Every- 
day Scene  —  Virtue  and  Vice  Side  by  Side  —  Stolen  Bodily  from  the 
Indians  —  The  Sign  Dance  —  The  »*  Kissing  Dance  "  —  Mischiev- 
ous Couples  —  Pi'actical  Jokes  —  The  Indian  Love  of  Iluruor  — 
Ludicrous  Experiences  —  A  Delicious  Bit  of  Masquerading. 


,  ROB  ABLY  from  the  fact  that  the  mu- 
sic is  always  to  the  monotonous  beat 
of  the  "  tom-tom,"  the  "  step  "  of  the 
Indian  dance  is  always  very  nearly  the 
same,  however  varied  the  figures.  The 
feet  are  kept  together,  the  whole  weight 
of  the  body  resting  on  the  balls,  the  heels 
not  touching  the  ground.  The  dancing 
effort  consists  in  a  little  spring  on  both  feet 
at  the  same  time,  so  timed  that  the  feet  come  down 
exactly  on  the  beat  of  the  "  tom-tom."  The  best  and 
most  artistic  dancers  vary  this  by  a  little  double 
spring,  such  as  is  often  used  by  little  white  girls  in 
"  skipping  the  rope."    The  movement  is  accompanied 

356 


':: ■.4'i:lldiA[^i>i.i  - 


mmmmmmm 


¥''     (■'^'i.y'f-^y^  :  ^A',    n- 


s^^fT'.'fr-S':"^''*', !'"''•■'''■. .T"-"""  -r-i-'i^  ■^f>r,'''\^<,-i  ••^r—}'-^;  -rwi-  ',n^    \t"r'!"  -c,s\>;l'',¥" 


10 

'?: 

's 
lo 

y- 

le 

V- 


ORAXD    MEDICINE    DANCE. 


357 


by  a  corresponding  rising  and  falling  of  the  shoulders, 
and  nervous  jerking  of  the  body,  communicating  a 
motion  to  almost  every  muscle  of  the  system.  The 
dancing  is  especially  tiresome  on  the  muscles  in  the 
calves  of  the  legs,  so  much  so,  that  a  dance  of  half 
an  hour  would  lay  a  white  novice  on  his  back  for  a 
week;  yet  the  Indian  will  dance  all  night,  and  feel 
none  the  worse  next  day. 

In  exciting  religious  or  other  ceremonial  dances, 
the  "  step  "  may  be  varied  by  bounds  and  springs  into 
the  air,  but  there  is  no  effort  at  posturing. 

In  the  ceremonial  dances,  in  which  warriors  alone 
participate,  the  dancers  generally  form  themselves 
into  a  circle  facing  inward,  and  sometimes  join  hands 
for  a  few  moments,  but  any  position  or  contact  which 
tends  to  restraint  is  soon  abandoned  in  the  excite- 
ment to  which  they  work  themselves. 

How  such  singing  and  such  dancing  can  give  the 
pleasure  they  undoubtedly  do  give  is  one  of  the 
problems  of  humanity,  but  for  all  purposes  of  excite- 
ment, indeed  of  frenzy,  they  are  amply  sufficient  to 
the  Indian. 

I  have  already  described  the  ceremonial  of  the 
"H(3ch-e-a-yum,"  or  "Medicine  Dance"  of  the  Chey- 
ennes  and  Arrapahoes,  which  as  nearly  as  possible 
is  identical  with  the  "  Sun  Dance  "  of  the  Dakotas. 
Almost  all  the  wild  tribes  have  a  dance  which  is 
Intended  to  represent  the  same  idea,  but  the  hor- 
rible tortures  are  omitted  in  all  but  the  more  warlike 
tribes,  those  who  ennoble  endurance  as  the  loftiest 
of  human  virtues. 

Indian  dances  are  of  three  kinds;  religious  cer- 
emonial, secular  ceremonial,  and  social. 

In  some  of  the  ceremonial  dances,  warriors  only 

23 


;&: 


^■4 


-  ■■  V"' 

i 


■-Jl^:'.v«'*!'t  tiW^^ 


.■<^ 


y^v 


358 


RELIGIOUS   DANCES. 


f 


It' 
1^' 


If: 


/., 


->  •«■?■ 


! 


: 


i 


If' 


are  permitted;  in  otlicM's  women  take  a  prominent 
part.  All,  men,  women,  and  children,  take  ])art  in 
the  social  dances,  the  greatest  happiness  of  Indian 
life. 

From  the  time  when  "David  danced  before  the 
Lord,"  to  the  present  day,  primitive  jieople  have 
regarded  some  form  of  dance  as  a  necessary  adjunct 
to  religious  ceremony.  Indeed,  the  remark  is  appli- 
cable to  all  peoples,  whether  primitive  or  enlightened, 
for  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  changes  of  posture — 
sitting,  standing,  kneeling, — of  our  Christian  forms 
of  worship,  are  merely  a  modification  of  the  primi- 
tive idea;  a  recognition  of  the  necessity  of  motion. 

Indians  are  not  polytheists,  nor  students  of  history, 
yet  many  of  their  religious  dances  and  ceremonies 
might  have  been  adopted  bodily  from  Grecian  ideas 
of  three  thousand  years  ago.  Thus  the  great  '^  med- 
icine dance  "  of  the  Florida  Scminoles  was  celebrated 
at  that  season  when  the  Indian  corn  was  in  its 
"  roasting  ear  "  state,  and  was  the/efore  called  by  them 
the  "green-corn  dance." 

The  ceremonies  commenced  with  processions  and 
dances,  and  a  feast  of  rejoicing,  somewhat  similar  to 
the  Cerelia  of  the  ancient  Romans,  and  wound  up 
with  a  furious  orgie  devoted  to  Venus. 

The  Sioux  also  celebrate  the  "  green-corn  dance " 
at  the  proper  season,  but  their  final  ceremonies, 
exactly  the  reverse  of  the  Scminoles,  might  be  in 
honor  of  Diana,  being  a  religious  and  rigid  test  of 
the  chastity  of  their  women. 

As  a  rule,  one  tribe  has  at  least  one  purely  religious 
dance  each  year.  This  much  is  insisted  upon  by  the 
medicine  men.  Tribes  which  can  afford  the  expense 
may  have  two  or  more. 


■  -V 


-;j;-r.-"7  I 


THE   SCALP   DANCE. 


359 


It 
111 

m 


All  these  religious  dances  embody  the  same  idea, 
and  arc  conducted  upon  much  the  same  general 
principle  as  the  great  camp-meetings  of  some  of  our 
Christian  denominations.  The  time  and  place  are 
fixed  by  the  medicine  man,  and  ample  notice  given. 

The  "scalp  dance,"  is  next  to  the  medicine  dance 
in  importance,  and  is  the  most  common  of  all  the 
ceremonial  dances  of  the  Indians. 

The  day  after  the  return  to  the  home  encampment 
of  a  successful  war  party,  by  which  scalps  have  been 
taken,  a  ceremony  is  performed  by  the  warriors  who 
took  them,  no  other  person  whatever  being  jDcrmitted 
to  be  present. 

I  have  been  a  spectator  at  a  distance,  but  all  to  be 
seen  was  a  number  of  Indians,  sitting  on  the  ground 
in  a  close  circle.  During  this  ceremony,  the  scalps 
arc  trimmed,  cleared  of  all  fleshy  matter,  and  the  skin 
cured  by  some  process.  Each  scalp  is  then  stretched 
by  thongs  inside  of  a  hoop  of  wood  a  little  larger 
than  itself,  and  the  hair  carefully  combed  and  greased. 
Each  warrior  then  attaches  his  scalp  or  scalps,  in 
their  hoops,  to  a  peeled  willow  wand,  from  eight  to 
ten  feet  long. 

This  ceremony  is  called  "  counting  the  coups,"  and 
is  "Big  Medicine,"  that  is,  very  important  in  a 
religious  point  of  view.  It  is  preparatory  to  the 
scalp  dance. 

AVhen  it  has  been  satisfactorily  completed,  all  the 
warriors  march  gravely  one  behind  the  other,  back  to 
camp,  each  bearing  his  wand  with  its  burden  of 
dangling  scalps  in  his  hand.  The  wands  are  planted 
in  a  circle  in  the  centre  of  the  camp. 

By  this  time,  the  whole  population  of  the  village  is 
crowded  around  this  centre  of  interest.     The  warriors 


1 1'-  -^l*'-:^;*^.  A  /it>l-:_V  >- 


-"sr 


v-";^: 


■fk  : 


r-- 


360 


BOASTFUL   WARRIORS. 


who  took  the  scalps  are  now  joined  by  those  who 
had  taken  part  in  the  fight,  or  who  belonged  to  the 
party  which  did  the  fighting,  and  thus  won  for 
themselves  the  right  to  participate  in  the  dance. 

All  assemble  in  a  circle  around  and  facing  the 
circle  of  wands.  At  a  signal,  all  the  warriors  join 
hands,  and  commence  the  monotonous  song  and 
dance,  turning  slowly  about  the  scalps.  As  the 
dance  progresses,  the  warriors  soon  loose  hands,  and 
varying  the  song  by  whoops  and  yells,  and  the  dance 
by  bounds,  gestures  and  brandishing  of  weapons, 
work  themselves  up  to  a  condition  of  excitement, 
bordering  on  frenzy. 

The  eyes  of  the  spectators  are  strained  upon  scalps 
and  dancers  as  each  slayer  in  turn  springing  from  the 
circle,  and  bounding  to  his  wand,  vaunts  in  extrav- 
agant terms  his  own  prowess,  and  acts  over  again  the 
taking  of  the  scalps. 

When  the  fortunate  takers  of  scalps  have  all 
exhausted  themselves  in  self-laudation,  others  of 
the  dancers  spring  by  turns  into  the  circle,  each 
explains  by  what  unfortunate  interference  of  the 
"  Bad  God,"  he  was  prevented  on  this  occasion  from 
taking  a  soaip,  and  recounts  in  glowing  language 
his  succcessful  prowess  on  some  previous  occasion, 
or  what  he  proposes  to  do  on  the  next  opportunity. 
This  is  continued  until  each  dancer  has  had  full 
opportunity  to  show  how  brave  and  great  a  warrior 
he  is.  Dancers  and  spectators  grow  wild  with 
excitement,  and  by  the  time  the  dance  is  over,  the 
whole  population  is  little  short  of  insane. 

This  nervous  intoxication  is  a  special  delight  of 
the  Indians,  and  when  they  feel  like  indulging  in  it, 
and  there  are  no  fresh  scalps,  they  bring  out  some 


r  .    V     »--     i.y--  :^  , 


STRIKING  THE  POST. 


363 


Lhe 
Ifor 


old  ones,  and  go  through  with  the  same  performance, 
the  same  scalps  in  "  piping  times  of  peace  "  being 
made  to  do  duty  over  and  over  again. 

I  have  been  told  that,  wild  as  the  dancers  appear  to 
be,  each  knows  perfectly  well  what  he  is  doing, 
having  previously  in  some  solitude  gone  over  his 
speech  and  acted  his  part,  time  and  again. 

AVhen  a  tribe  has  decided  upon  war,  a  ceremony 
or  scene  almost  identical  with  that  described  is 
enacted.  It  is  called  "  striking  the  post."  The  trunk 
of  a  tree  from  six  inches  to  a  foot  in  diameter  is 
l)lanted  in  the  ground  in  the  centre  of  the  camp. 

War  parties  are  usually  made  up  of  volunteers. 
The  chief  who  is  to  command  the  expedition  sends 
criers  through  the  camp,  beating  tom-toms  and  calling 
on  every  warrior  to  come  to  the  post-  The  whole 
population  of  the  village  is  soon  assembled  and  the 
ce/emonies  commence.  The  warriors  who  have 
already  decided  to  go  form  in  a  circle  about  the 
post,  and,  when  worked  up  by  song  and  dance  to  a 
pi'oper  fjtate  of  excitement,  each  bounds  in  turn  to 
the  jiost,  and  striking  it  with  his  "  coup-stick  "  gives 
a  most  glowing  description  of  what  he  intends  to  do 
when  he  meets  the  enemy.  Other  warriors,  excited 
by  the  recitals,  join  the  dance  and  in  turn  strike  the 
post,  until  a  sufficient  number  have  thus  signified 
their  intention  of  taking  the  field. 

It  is  a  ceremony  of  enlistment,  and  after  "  striking 
tlie  post "  nothing  but  sickness  or  other  imperative 
cause  will  prevent  an  Indian  from  going  with  the 
ex])edition, —  it  has  become  a  matter  of  honor. 

These  are  the  war  dances,  and  as  every  little 
predatory  party  must "  strike  the  post,"  before  it  goes 
out  and  have  "ts  scalp  dance  (whether  successful  or 


'■% 


-'^1 


'Ji  !.v:u^ 


364 


AN  UNWILLING  PERFORMER. 


m.. 


i 


f 


r 


.v: 


''■ 


I 


i« . 


h=''^• 


not  in  taking  them)  when  it  gets  back,  the  war  spirit 
is  kept  at  a  fever  heat.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that,  in  some  of  the  wilder  tribes  and  within  a  very 
few  years  of  this  writing,  one  or  other  of  these 
frenzies  was  enacted  at  least  once  a  week. 

The  Indians  on  reservations  and  in  the  vicinity  of 
troops,  have  now  almost  abandoned  them,  as  advertis- 
ing either  their  purpose  or  its  fulfilment.  When, 
however,  there  is  legitimate  opportunity,  these  dances 
are  still  celebrated;  and  in  every  case  where  the 
United  States  has  used  Indian  against  Indian,  those 
employed  by  the  government  have  celebrated  their 
going  out  and  coming  in,  with  all  the  old  enthusiasm. 

I  was  once  spectator  at  a  scjlp  dance  which  Mas  a 
special  and  exceptional  occasion,  for  not  only  had  a 
goodly  number  of  scalps  been  taken,  but  two  prison- 
ers—  a  woman  of  about  forty,  and  boy  of  twelve  years 
of  age  —  were  to  grace  the  ceremony.  The  peeled 
wands  beanng  the  hoops  and  stretched  scalps  had 
been  planted  in  a  circle  in  the  ground.  The  prisoners 
were  brought  by  the  warriors  who  had  captured  them, 
from  the  lodge  in  which  they  were  confined,  and 
forced  to  take  their  places  in  the  circle,  their  hands 
being  held  by  the  warriors  on  each  side  of  them.  The 
woman-prisoner  accepted  the  situation,  and  in  looks 
and  actions  ajipeared  to  take  as  enjoyable  an  interest 
in  the  dance  as  any  of  the  proper  performers.  Not 
so  the  boy;  with  eyes  downcast,  without  a  voluntary 
motion  of  foot  or  body,  he  was  dragged  around  the 
circle,  taking  only  such  walking-steps  as  were 
necessary  to  avoid  being  pulled  down.  All  the 
turmoil  and  excitement  failed  to  pi'oduce  on  him  the 
slightest  effect.  Not  once  in  the  dance  of  more  than 
an  hour  did  he  lift  his  eyes  to  the  scalps,  to  which 


•(('^■.'S^';-  ■ 


f 


C/) 


to 


Q 


I 
H 

X 

w 

o 
> 
r 

o 
> 

2! 

o 


t 


'^.'.'/.'■r''-  ^;^'a^.' 


:,  ;,<■?*., 


DRESSING  FOR   THE   DANCE. 


365 


were  directed  all  the  eyes  and  attention  of  his  eaptors. 
Not  once  did  he  evince  the  slightest  interest  in  any 
of  the  proceedings,  or  make  the  slightest  movement 
unless  forced  to  it. 

I  could  not  but  admire  the  proud  determination  of 
one  so  young  to  resist  all  the  efforts  of  a  crowd  of 
enemies  to  force  him  into  even  a  sembhince  of  rejoic- 
ing over  the  scalps  of  nis  people,  possibly  of  his  own 
father. 

Besides  the  above-described  dances,  which  are 
common  to,  and  much  the  same  among  all  Indians, 
every  tribe,  almost  every  band,  has  one  or  more 
ceremonial  dances.  These  have  a  general  sameness, 
but  differ  according  to  the  taste  and  inventive  genius 
of  the  band.  They  are  not  intended  to  intoxicate 
with  excitement,  being  purely  spectacular,  but  are 
gotten  up  by  the  warriors  for  the  purpose  of  display, 
and  to  render  themselves  pleasing  in  the  eyes  of  their 
sweethearts. 

The  Indian  is  vainer  than  a  peacock,  and  is  never 
so  happy  as  when  tricked  out  in  all  the  gaudy  and 
tawdry  finery  that  he  can  ])ossibly  heap  upon  himself. 

The  dancers  in  the  "  II6ch-e-a-yum,"  the  "  scalp 
dance,"  and  "  striking  the  post,"  generally  go  through 
their  performances  in  breech-cloth  and  moccasins 
alone.  Those  in  the  spectacular  dances  are  over- 
loaded with  all  the  finery  they  possess  or  can  borrow. 
These  dances  are,  therefore,  veiy  grave  and  dignified, 
the  performers  not  having  freedom  of  movement  to 
act  out  excitement,  even  did  they  feel  it,  and  brusque 
movement  might  injure  some  of  the  finery. 

The  dancers  form  in  a  line,  all  fiicing  the  same 
way,  but  not  jbining  hands,  the  "  tom-tom  "  strikes 
up  in  slow  time,  all  join  in  a  monotonous  son 


g  with- 


*./■."  *-A\  7«.»i"«fr;*->*'y^,-:  ■' 


.'■"■■T'S  >^'"^-V'»,"T,Vy^<^f^iTi-^;";''?''^^''"'"'''-"^"'.';-\'5r'-"Af^ 


366 


CANDID    CRITICISM. 


; 


1 

: 


out  words,  and  the  movement  commences.  The 
dancing"  step  is  modified  ahnost  to  a  walk,  and  the 
figure  is  a  lame  attempt  at  imitating  the  evolutions  of 
a  company  of  infantry  soldiers  at  drill. 

It  not  unfrequently  happens,  that  some  of  the 
warriors  who  have  exceptionally  beautiful  ironies, 
horse-equipments,  shields,  etc.,  join  this  dance  on 
horseback.  They  form  on  the  flanks  of  the  foot- 
dancers,  folloAV  their  movements,  and  often  elicit 
great  admiration,  not,  as  might  be  expected,  for  skilful 
horsemanship,  but  for  their  general  style  and  perfec- 
tion of  ornamentation. 

All  Indians,  men  and  women,  are  so  at  home  on 
horseback,  that  gradations  of  horsemanship  as  recog- 
nized among  civilized  peoi)le  are  unknown. 

These  dances  are  great  favorites  with  the  women, 
who  crowd  around,  applaud  vociferously  every  change 
in  the  movement,  and  comment  loudly  on  the  beauties 
or  faults  of  dress,  and  on  the  excellencies  or  deficien- 
cies of  the  performers. 

The  Avomen  are  allowed  perfect  freedom  in  these 
criticisms,  which  arc  yelled  at  the  individual  by  name, 
who  is  required  by  Indian  custom  to  keep  a  staid 
gravity  of  countenance  and  i)erfect  tem])er,  whether 
elevated  to  the  seventh  heaven  of  gratified  vanity,  by 
the  laudations  of  some  woman  for  whom  he  has  a 
weakness,  or  exasperated  almost  beyond  endurance 
by  the  ridicule  of  one  whom  he  dislikes.  The  red 
coquettes  take  full  advantage  of  their  opportunity; 
and  not  a  few  love  afltiirs,  courtships,  or  changes  of 
husband,  date  their  commencement  from  the  extrava- 
gnnt  ])raises  bestowed  by  some  red  beauty  on  a 
performer  in  this  dance.  The  phenomenal  i)eculiarity 
of  Indian   custom   is,  that   a  husband  must   listen 


■'-■•  ^^^  «':.''•:' ;:'■(< 


;■  iTi  y  ^'y  *■>  ■^^'y  V  ■;-.'■■"  .'^- "' 


MERCENARY  CARESSES. 


367 


unmoved,  and    without    after    action,  to  his   wife's 
loudly  expressed  encomiums  on  another  man. 

One  of  the  most  curious  of  all  Indian  dances,  is 
called  the  "  begging  dance."  It  is  also  least  common, 
for  it  requires  the  active  or  passive  participation  of 
two  tribes,  which  have  become  friendly  after  a  period 
of  hostility. 

It  is  somewhat  on  the  idea  of  a  surprise-party.  All 
the  fighting  men  of  one  tribe,  armed  and  dressed  in 
their  ordinary  clothing,  will  suddenly  and  without 
previous  notice  rush  upon  the  camp  of  the  other, 
firing  guns,  sounding  the  war-whoop,  and  making 
evei*y  demonstration  of  a  most  furious  attack. 

The  assaulted  Indians  pour  out  of  their  teepes,  and 
recognizing  the  nature  of  the  onslaught,  put  away 
their  weapons,  and  form  in  a  wide  circle  in  the  centre 
of  the  camp.  The  attacking  party  rush  in  as  if  about 
to  destroy  everything,  but  at  a  signal  lay  aside  their 
arms,  form  inside,  the  circle  of  spectators,  and  com- 
mence a  ceremonial  dance,  a  combination  of  dances, 
a  war  dance  without  its  excitement  and  boastings,  a 
spectacular  dance  without  its  dress  and  dignity. 

It  is  emphatically  a  dance  of  reconciliation,  and 
during  its  progress,  the  dancers,  springing  from  their 
circle,  and  seizing  each  upon  a  warrior  of  the  other 
tribe,  hugs  him  with  every  demonstration  of  the 
warmest  affection.  But  here  ceases  all  resemblance 
to  a  civilized  surprise-party,  where  the  self-invited 
guests  bring  their  own  refreshments.  Every  unfor- 
tunate Indian  embi*aced  by  a  dancer  is  required  by 
Indian  custom  to  make  him  a  present,  and  etiquette 
requires  that  he  shall  not  be  niggardly. 

A  "  begging  dance  "  is  almost  as  grave  a  calamity 
to  an  Indian  tribe  as  the  raid  of  a  hostile  band.    Ko 


'K  :t 


'. 


'•■  "  '  "'■■-   •"     /  V  ■■■■■  ■•-■ 


.-V- 


■\n'^,"' •'-•■■'■' 


368 


A  KUENOUS  RECONCILIATION. 


A?.- 


one  is  killocl  or  wounded,  it  is  true,  but  the  amount  of 
plunder  carried  off  is  such  as  to  incommode,  if  not 
impoverish,  the  unfortunates  subject  to  it. 

I  have  witnessed  but  one  "begging-  dance."  In 
his  winter  campaign  of  187G-'77,  against  the  Sioux, 
General  Crook  had  about  three  hundred  and  fifty 
Indian  allies.  They  were  from  five  different  tribes, 
almost  all  of  which  had  until  this  time  been  bitterly 
hostile  to  each  other.  With  rare  tact  he  united  these 
conflicting  elements  into  one  homogeneous  and  effect- 
ive whole,  effecting  at  least  a  nominal  reconciliation 
between  the  Sioux  and  Pawnees,  which  tribes  had 
been  most  bitter  enemies  for  generations. 

The  aggressive  campaign  had  terminated,  and 
rumors  of  sjieedy  return  wei'e  rife  in  the  camp. 

One  day  I  was  sitting  in  my  tent  when  I  heard  the 
terrible  war-whoop,  accompanied  by  a  rattling  succes- 
sion of  shots,  and,  rushing  out,  I  saw  a  long  line  of 
Indians  in  skirmishing  order,  advancing  at  a  run  over 
a  hill  to  the  Pawnee  camp.  I  could  see  that  the 
Pawnees,  though  in  commotion,  did  not  appear  to  be 
alarmed,  and  as  there  was  no  excitement  at  head- 
quarters, I  presumed  the  demonstration  to  be  a 
ceremony  of  some  kind. 

Getting  my  hat  and  overcoat,  I  made  for  the  scene 
of  action,  but  when  I  arrived  the  dance  was  already 
under  full  headway. 

The  Sioux,  the  most  cunning  of  all  the  Plains 
tribes,  taking  advantage  of  the  near  approach  of 
separation,  had  determined  to  add  another  to  the 
terrible  blows  they  had  in  late  years  dealt  the  Pawnees 
by  giving  them  a  "begging  dance." 

The  Sioux  were  almost  as  numerous  as  the  Pawnees, 
and  the  dance  did  not  cease  till  every  rascally  dancer 


THE    BAFFLED   PAWNEES. 


369 


had  hnggccl  almost  every  individual  Pawnee,  and  thu8 
secured  from  him  a  liberal  present. 

The  head  chief  of  the  Pawnees,  a  great  friend  of 
mine,  known  as  Frank,  but  whose  Indian  name  I 
never  could  master,  literally  stripped  himself,  giving 
to  the  Sioux  chief  a  war-bonnet  and  dress,  for  which 
to  my  knowledge,  he  had  refused  one  hundred  dol- 
lars, and  to  other  Indians,  ponies,  finery  and  cloth- 
ing, to  the  value  of  over  six  hundred  dollars.  The 
unfortunate  Pawnees  were  left  ahnost  in  "i)uris 
naturalibus." 

Tlie  next  day  I  met  Frank,  and  remonstrated  with 
him  for  his  own  and  his  people's  foolishness  in  tamely 
submitting  to  be  so  swindled. 

lie  admitted  everything,  said  he  knew  the  Sioux 
had  done  it  purposely,  and  from  hostile  feeling,  but 
that  it  was  the  "  Indian  road,"  and  that  he  and  his 
l)eople  would  have  been  disgraced  among  all  the 
Indians,  had  they  not  givr'n  as  they  did. 

His  only  hope  was  that  General  Crook  would 
delay  his  return  march  for  a  few  days,  in  which  case 
it  was  the  intention  of  the  Pawnees  to  give  a  return 
"begging  dance"  to  the  Sioux,  in  the  hope  of  at 
least  getting  some  of  their  things  back.  lie  did 
not  expect  to  get  all  back,  for  he  saitl,  "  The 
Sioux  always  were  mean,  stingy,  cunning,  and  un- 
derhanded, while  the  Pawnees  are  well  known  for 
their  generosity  and  open-handedness." 

Unfortunately  for  the  good  intentions  of  the 
Pawnees,  the  order  for  the  return  march  was  issued 
that  very  afternoon,  and  the  poor  Pawnees  came 
back  from  the  campaign  poorer  than  ever,  and 
without  the  hoped-for  chance  of  getting  even  with 
their  lifc-loncr   enemies, 


M^ 


370 


SOCIAL  DANCES. 


1 


It  ma}"  not  be  out.  of  place  here  to  remark,  that  a 
body  of  Indian  warriors  almost  invariably  uses  the 
"surprise-party"  style  of  advance  on  a  camp  or  vil- 
lage. A  war  party  returning  from  a  successful  foray, 
will  approach  its  own  home-village  with  the  greatest 
care  and  secrecy,  bursting  suddenly  upon  it  with 
shots  and  whoops,  and  every  appearance  of  a  furious 
hostile  attack.  Small  camps  and  villages  whose  occu- 
pants are  unknown  are  approached  in  the  same  man- 
ner, and  should  the  village  be  that  of  a  hostile  band, 
the  demonstration  is  at  once  converted  into  a  real  at- 
tack. If  the  camp  or  village  be  large,  the  approach 
is  very  different. 

The  dances  heretofore  described,  ministering  as 
they  do  to  the  religious  enthusiasm,  the  military 
ambition,  or  the  personal  vanity  of  the  individuals, 
may  be  regarded  as  the  pickles  and  sauces  of  Indian 
life,  excellent  as  condiments,  but  not  appc^tizing  or 
healthy  as  constant  diet. 

Indians  are  very  human.  No  people  arc  so  easily 
carried  out  of  themselves  by  excitement,  but  fond  as 
they  are  of  this  species  of  intoxication,  they  prefer 
for  every-day  life  a  milder  pleasure.  This  they  find 
in  their  social  dances,  which  of  all  others  yield  them 
the  most  full,  jjerfect,  and  unalloyed  enjoyment. 

I  am  safe  in  saying  that  when  the  weather  permits, 
and  this,  on  the  high,  dry  Plains,  is  for  full  eight 
months  of  the  year,  every  band  of  Indians  secui'e 
from  enemies,  and  untroubled  by  sickness,  has  at 
least  five  of  these  dances  in  every  v;eek. 

Little  preparation  is  necessary.  Some  frisky  young- 
ster will  commence  beating  on  his  "  tom-tom "  at 
early  nightfall,  and  in  a  very  little  while  enough 
people   of  both  sexes  will  have   assembled   for   all 


y^-  y.  \-   If 


r-^'-j     irtf.f:,.^  f^f,"^     r    "    V'^i'T.TT"^*^''*'"'^^'" 


BALL-ROOM   AND   ORCHESTRA. 


371 


la 


purposes  of  enjoyment.  Often  these  dances  are  held 
in  tlic  open  air,  but  as  light  is  necessary  to  their  full 
enjoyment  (as  will  be  seen),  they  usually  take  place 
in  a  tecpe,  which  is  cleared  of  bedding  and  furniture 
in  an  incredibly  short  time. 

If  the  assembly  is  expected  to  be  large,  and  there 
be  time  enough  beforehand,  two  teepes  are  pitched 
near  together,  the  jdoIcs  crossed  and  flaps  lifted,  so  as 
to  make  one  large  room,  which  is  scantily  lighted  by 
candles.  There  is  no  furniture  whatever,  and  the 
guests  sit  on  the  ground. 

Formal  invitation  is  not  considered  necessary,  the 
call  of  the  "  tom-tom "  being  notice  to  all  who  may 
wish  to  attend,  Even  when  some  warrior  wishes  to 
give  an  especially  grand  affair,  he  simply  makes 
greater  preparations.  His  proceedings  arc  noted  by 
numerous  eyes,  and  the  indications  of  preparation  for 
sui)per  will  bring  every  man,  woman,  and  child  of 
the  village. 

There  is  no  society  among  Indians,  no  difference  in 
social  grade,  no  social  ostracism  of  women  of  any 
kind  or  for  any  cause.  All  meet  at  these  dances  on 
terms  of  the  most  absolute  social  equality. 

The  two  teepes  are  pitched  together,  forming  one 
large  room,  somewhat  like  two  parlors,  with  open 
doors  between.  One  of  these  rooms  is  occupied  by 
the  "  tom-tom  "  and  the  men,  the  other  is  for  the 
women  and  dancing. 

In  one,  half  a  dozen  Indian  men  are  squatted 
around  the  drum,  each  furnished  with  a  stick  three- 
fourths  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  two  feet  long,  one 
end  of  which  is  wound  with  .  thick  wad  of  cotton 
rags.  These  are  the  drum-sticks,  and  this  is  the 
whole  orchestra.    Each  man  has  a  place  to  beat  on 


iV, 


't 


^— Vf;-^ 


ft,iit';:'ti:A 


372 


THEORIES   OF   PROPRIETY. 


the  drum-head,  and  taking  the  time  from  one  of  their 
number,  all  strike  in  unison.  There  is  no  attempt  to 
floui'i.sh  or  roll,  or  flam,  or  perform  any  of  the  civil- 
ized tricks  of  drumming;  it  is  simply  the  thump, 
thump,  thump,  of  half  a  dozen  sticks  striking  at  the 
same  time  on  one  drum-head. 

Soon  after  the  first  thump,  the  dancers  begin  to 
appear.  Even  at  the  grandest  of  these  dances  there 
is  no  ceremony.  The  host  is  probably  at  the  drum, 
or,  if  an  old  man,  smoking  a  pipe  with  his  chums  in  a 
quiet  corner.  The  hostess,  and  a  few  of  their  most 
intimate  friends,  and  all  the  children,  arc  squatted 
close  under  the  wall  of  the  tcepe,  so  as  to  leave  as 
large  as  possible  a  space  for  dancing.  The  visitors 
arrive,  the  men  singly  or  together  as  it  may  happen ; 
the  women  -^Iways  several  together,  or  accompanied 
by  children. 

Although  there  seems  to  be  no  particular  sentiment 
against  it,  a  man  very  rarely  accompanies  his  wife  to 
or  from  a  dance.  A  married  woman  who  would 
accept  such  r.ttention  from  any  man  other  than  her 
husband,  would  commit  the  greatest  breach  of  pro- 
priety. An  unmarried  gii*l  doing  so  heinous  a  thing 
would  become  common  property  at  once. 

There  are  of  course  no  dressing-rooms,  nor  arc 
visitors  met  at  the  door  by  handshakings,  or  other 
evidences  of  welcome.  The  men  find  their  way  to  the 
drum-room,  and  the  women  with  much  chattering, 
laughter,  and  frolic,  squat  around  the  dancing-room, 
leaving  always  ample  space  in  the  centre,  even  if 
they  have  to  push  up  the  wall  of  the  teepe  and  sit 
outside. 

It  is  a  curious  scene  to  one  accustomed  to  civilized 
ideas  and  prejudices.    A  woman  of  standing  and 


■ 


tf  I 


AN   INDIAN   "gERM.VN." 


373 


virtue  is  squatted  beside,  and  in  sprightly  conver- 
sation witlia  female  slave  without  virtue;  the  wife  of 
a  chief  is  being  pulled  and  mauled  by  the  children 
of  the  poorest  and  most  worthless  man  of  the  band; 
two  women  who  quarrelled  this  morning  are  now 
amicably  discussing  the  dress  of  some  mutual  friend; 
but  all  now  is  light-hearted  jollity  and  gladsome 
anticipation.  Everybody  is  happy,  even  the  woman 
with  the  newest  and  reddest  shawl,  for  though  she 
may  be  let  severely  alone,  (the  sex  being  the  same 
every whei'c),  yet  she  too  is  happy,  her  feminine  in- 
stinct assuring  her  that  the  others  are  only  envious. 

Enough  dancers  have  assembled.  The  "tom-tom" 
beaters,  who  for  the  last  ten  minutes  have  been  regal- 
ing themselves  with  a  pipe,  now  (when  it  is  duly 
smoked  out)  give  the  signal  to  begin  by  vigorous 
thumping  on  the  drum.  The  women  now  rule,  and 
calling  out  to  the  drummers,  tell  them  what  they 
wish  to  dance.  The  drummers  commence  their 
monotonous  beat,  almost  every  person  pi-esent,  both 
male  and  female,  join  in  a  song  without  words,  in  time 
with  the  beats  of  the  "  tom-tom." 

After  seeing  and  participating  in  both  many  times, 
I  am  quite  prepared  to  aver  that  the  dance  most  dear 
to  the  heart  of  American  society-youth  of  both  sexes, 
"the  German,"  is  stolen  bodily  from  the  Indians, 
except  that  our  high  civilization  and  sense  of  chival- 
rous propriety  have  changed  the  sex  of  the  leaders. 

Among  Indians  the  leader  of  every  social  dance  is 
always  a  woman.  It  is  not  to  be  understood  that  this 
leader  is  selected  beforehand,  and  for  the  whole  dance, 
as  with  us,  but  that  after  the  music  has  fairly  struck 
up,  the  woman  who  first  gets  up  and  comes  dancing 
into  the  circle,  is  the  leader  for  that  figure.    In  some 


/  < 


^T'f''Kf^' '■•■•■"' v''*'^*'-^'-""'-*?'-^'*f^^ 


374 


WOMEN   LEADERS. 


1^: 


>  ■ 


'Jv, 


'■*.■ 


•;#■■ 


of  the  figures,  two  women  or  even  three,  will  come 
out  together. 

In  sayiug  this  much,  I  have  already  described  the 
dauoe  to  all  society  people,  but  for  the  sake  of  those 
benighted  whites  who  know  not  "the  German,"  I 
will  jDroceed  with  my  description. 

The  step  is  always  the  same;  that  already  described. 

AVhen  th"  vigorous  beats  of  the  "tom-tom"  and 
the  sounding  chorus  of  voices  have  so  set  her  blood 
tingling  that  she  is  no  longer  restrained  by  her  sense 
of  modesty,  a  woman  will  get  up,  advance  to  the 
centre,  and  dance  alone  around,  or  partly  around,  the 
circle  She  tiien  advances  to  some  man,  (possibly  one 
of  the  drum-beaters),  seizes  and  leads  him  triumph- 
antly to  the  centre,  where  they  together  dance  around, 
sometimes  arm  in  arm,  but  more  frequently  with  their 
arms  around  each  other,  as  in  our  round  dances. 
After  a  circuit  or  two  they  separate,  each  taking  up 
another  partner  of  the  opposite  sex,  and  this  is  con- 
tinued until  there  are  us  many  couples  on  the  floor 
as  can  dance  comfortably  After  from  ten  to  twenty 
minutes,  the  music  ceases,  and  the  dancers  separating, 
return  alone  each  to  his  or  her  seat. 

Sometimes,  in  violation  of  the  well-known  civilized 
rule,  that  "  two  is  company,  three  a  crowd,"  the  figui'c 
will  requiie  two  men  to  one  woman,  or  the  reverse, 
when  the  three,  locked  in  mutual  embrace,  dance 
around  together. 

s  he  "  sign  dance  "  is  very  pretty.  A  woman,  after 
dancing  around  alone,  will  take  up  a  man,  lead  him 
into  the  circle,  place  him  opposite  to  her,  both  danc- 
ing. She  will  then  say  to  him  in  the  "sign  lan- 
guage," "  Here  I  am,  ready  to  be  made  love  to ;  what 
do    you  think  of  me?"    He  answers   in  the   same 


■I 


-*'r>'a?.;''.^i'"._v4q*".'r')cj-. 


THE   KISSING   DANCE. 


375 


Ime 

the 

)se 

I 


language,  as  his  wit  or  discretion  prompts.  This 
especial  figure  is  one  of  the  greatest  favorites,  the 
conversations  being  a  collision  of  wits,  every  sally  of 
which  is  received  by  the  spectators  with  uproarious 
laughter  and  unbounded  applause. 

As  may  readily  be  inferred  from  what  I  have 
already  said  about  Indians,  these  conversations  are 
not  characterized  by  the  most  perfect  propriety,  or 
even  decency,  but  nothing  that  creates  fun  can  be 
amiss  to  the  Indian,  and  all  must  be  taken  with  the 
most  pei'fect  good  humor.  It  would  be  a  monstrous 
breach  of  good  manners  to  get  angry  at  anything 
said  or  done  in  this  figure. 


Another 
called   the 


figure 


creates  great  merriment.  It  is 
"  kissing  dance."  The  leading  Avoman 
selects  a  partner  as  before.  After  dancing  around 
together,  they  separate,  and  each  selects  another  of 
opposite  sex,  and  so  on  until  the  floor  is  filled.  At  a 
signal  all  go  to  their  proper  partners,  that  is,  the 
leading  woman  goes  back  to  the  man  she  first  selected, 
the  two  selected  by  him  and  her  go  together,  those 
chosen  by  these  go  together,  and  so  to  the  end.  Thea 
all  seat  themselves  on  the  ground,  couples  facing 
each  other,  when  the  man  deliberately  kisses  the 
woman,  the  more  modest  couples  drawing  a  shawl 
over  their  heads  during  this  act. 

The  fun  of  this  dance  is,  that  while  the  leader  can 
select  the  man  she  wishes  to  kiss,  she  and  he  can 
select  those  least  likely  to  wish  to  kiss  each  other; 


she, 


taking 


up   a 


young 


love-sick  boy,  and  he  a 
woman  old  enough  to  be  his  grandmother,  or  vice 
versa. 

'No  end  of  fun  is  created  by  the  complications  ^^  at 
a  few  bright  and  mischievous  couples  can  make. 

24 


■V,    i 


i 


^ 


"r 


'■•■T";.-v'.f*p-^-'.'-"T-:^v ' 


376 


EATING  DAIfCE. 


Sv 


yn  every  case,  the  man  is  supposed  to  make  some 
little  present  to  the  woman  he  kisses.  If  a  woman  in 
the  dance  offers  to  take  out  a  man  who  does  not  wish 
to  go,  he  can  get  olf  by  paying  a  nickel,  when  some- 
body else  is  seized  upon  and  taken  out.  This  is  a 
savin"*-  clause  for  those  white  witnesses  of  this  dance 
whose  taste  rebels  against  the  kisses  of  the  red 
beauties,  for  no  man,  white  or  red,  mere  spectator  or 
habitual  dancei",  can  hope  to  escape  without  kissing, 
or  buying  himself  off ;  and  in  this  latter  case  he  must 
have  a  pocket  full  of  nickels,  for  every  woman  of  the 
'dance  will  "  go  for  him,"  on  that  account  alone.  They 
like  kisses,  but  they  like  nickels  better. 

One  figure  is  called  the  "eating  dance."  The 
leader  selects  her  partner  and  after  a  round  or  two, 
they  go  to  where  the  refreshments  are,  and  after 
helping  themselves,  bring  something  to  eat,  good  or 
bad,  great  or  small,  whicli  they  each  ofter  to  another 
of  the  opposite  sex,  thus  taking  them  tmt.  These  in 
turn  go  out  and  get  something  which  they  offer  to 
others,  and  this  is  continued  until  the  floor  is  full  and 
all  the  dancers  have  something  to  eat  in  hand,  when 
round  and  round  they  all  go.  Xo  more  ludicrous 
sight  can  be  imagined  than  twenty  or  thirty  coui)les 
hugging  each  other,  dancing,  singi'.ig,  laughing, 
talking,  eating,  screaming,  all  at  one  and  the  same 
time. 

The  fun  in  this  dance  is  in  giving  the  person  taken 
up  something  to  eat  which  will  create  merriment. 
An  old  squaw,  with  her  teeth  worii  to  the  gums,  will 
be  brought  into  the  circle  of  dancers  by  a  huge  bone 
with  no  meat  on  it;  a  notoriously  heavy  I'eeder  will 
be  ))rought  out  by  the  smallest  i)ossible  ])iece  of 
cracker.      Of  course    these    all  "get   even,"  and   a 


k: 


MASQUERADING. 


377 


ne 
ill 


bountiful  repast  when  thoy  go  out  to  get  something 
to  ''  take  up  "  the  next  couple  with,  but  the  fun  is  that 
each  has  to  keep  in  hand  that  which  was  given  and 
to  appear  to  enjoy  it. 

At  the  very  last  Cheye^?^e  dance  that  I  attended,  I 
saw  the  only  instance  of  anything  like  masquerade 
that  I  have  ever  seen  among  Indians,  though  I  have 
heard  it  is  not  uncommon.  One  or  other  of  three 
very  })retty  and  bright  little  girls,  of  ten  to  twelve 
years  old,  had,  with  the  forwardness  of  their  age, 
gained  the  leadership  in  almost  every  figure.  Two 
of  them  were  well  known,  but  the  other  was  for  a 
long  time  supposed  to  be  a  stranger,  creating  no  little 
wonderment.  Finally,  a  young  buck  with  whom  she 
was  dancing  discovered  that  "  she  "  was  a  boy  dressed 
in  his  sister's  clothing.  The  little  rascal  had  played 
his  part  so  well  as  to  mystify  the  Avhole  party  for  half 
the  night,  and  with  so  pretly,  sprightly,  and  natural 
an  action,  that  half  the  bucks  in  the  dance  had  made 
love  to  him.  It  was  considered  a  wonderful  feat,  and 
made  great  sport. 

I  could  enumerate  many  other  figures,  and  there 
are  yet  many  which  I  have  not  seen.  Enough  to  say, 
that  if  not  quite  so  infinite  as  the  figures  of  "the 
German,"  it  is  only  because  the  inventive  faculty  of 
the  Indian  is  not  so  well  developed  as  that  of  the 
white. 

After  a  knowledge  of  the  social  dance,  it  is  very 
easy  to  understand  the  wonderful  hold  it  has  upon 
the  taste  and  affection  of  the  Indian.  Here  are  no 
chiefs,  no  commons,  no  master,  no  slave.  All  men 
are  on  an  equality,  all  women  are  equal  each  to  the 
other,  and  iiere,  alone,  in  virtue  of  their  leadership,  a 
little  superior  to  the  men.     There  is  no  scandal,  no 


J-' 


;';'-'i7?C'-'*»?f',"»iVV'.^C''*'4'if.''"W7*."*^ff'!ft''7  ^•v.:r--,-j.i.-^.T,-v,".'j~; 


,■<;■ 

'3 


tfe 


I' 


I:- 


378 


JOLLY  PEOPLE. 


S   '■' 


i'»-. 


e- 


ill-nature,  for  Indian  etiquette  requii'cs  that  no  one 
shall  take  offence.     All  is  jollity  and  pleasure. 

It  is  an  informal  social  reunion,  in  which  every  one 
may  take  j^art,  where  everybody  is  exi)ected  not  only 
to  be  themselves  in  the  very  best  possible  humor,  but 
to  do  everything  in  their  power  to  promote  the  general 
pleasure. 

The  fun  is  broad,  coarse,  as  might  be  expected  of  a 
savage  race;  but  jollier,  more  light-hearted,  better 
pleased  people  I  have  never  seen  at  any  social  gathej'- 
ing,  and  the  temper  of  the  whole  affair  is  perfect. 


^'v  r'T't.r.v/'w*  ;'.,■':',*■!>'  ■■'•■■ 


"' '?7»"'*v^^f'''''?  '■« ■■*' y  ■'" 


'  '<  Tr->?.f>'  Hii/V 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


^;: 


THE    SIGN    LANGUAGE  —  WONDERFUL     EXPERTNESS 
OF  INDIAN  SIGN-TALIfERS. 

The  Need  of  a  Common  Language  —  The  Great  Battle  Ground  of  the 
Plains  —  The  Struggle  for  Existence  —  Imperilled  Interests  —  A 
Question  of  Fate  —  Desperate  Encountei's  —  Common  Methods  of 
Communication  —  Signs  and  Gestures  —  Origin  and  Extent  of  the 
System  —  Tile  Cheyennes  and  Arrapalioes  —  Enforced  Companion- 
ship —  Fighting,  Racing  and  Gambling  Together  —  Ignorance  of 
Signs  Among  ti)c  Utes  —  Ouray's  Explanation  —  Sign  Pictures  — 
Rank  of  tlr3  Kiowas  as  Founders  of  the  System  —  Oral  Language  — 
Skeleton  Forms  of  Speech  —  Individual  Styles  —  First  Lessons  in 
Signs  —  Carious  and  Interesting  Illustrations  —  A  Powerful  Svs- 
tem  —  Its  Effect  upon  Indian  Life  —  Tlie  Exp<;rt  Sign-talker  — 
Conversation  under  Difficulties  —  Talking  under  a  Blanket. 

I^OR  as  far  back  in  the  uncertain  past  as 
we  can  reasonably  hope,  through  tra- 
dition and  story,  to  reach  any  barely  solid 
foundation  of  fact,  the  Indians  of  the 
Plains  —  that  vast  plateau  between  the 
Mississippi  River  and  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains —  have  been,  of  all  Indians,  the  least 
disposed  to  content  themselves  within  the 
boundaries  of  their  own  territories.  This 
may  have  resulted  from  the  peculiarly  warlike  char- 
acter of  these  Indians,  but  most  probably  was  the 
result  of  accident,  or,  more  strictly  speaking,  was 
forced  upon  them  by  the  all-important  question  of 
food. 

All  the  Plains  tribes  depended  almost  entirely  on 
the  buffalo    for  everything.      That  animal,  though 

879 


•i       S 


a" 


:»- 


■■^f  ■;;" 


'I ''X'3y*  "*•■'''■* 


.*■■■■"        t 


380 


OllIGLN   OF   SIGN   LANGUAGE. 


regular  in  his  migrations  (going  north  in  spring,  and 
south  in  fall  and  winter),  was  exceedingly  erratic,  his 
visits  to  any  particular  section  of  country  depending 
on  his  own  food  supply,  the  condition  of  the  grass. 
One  year,  the  country  of  a  tribe  of  Indians  might  be 
overrun  by  herds  whose  numbers  were  simi)ly  incal- 
culable ;  the  next  year,  the  same  territory  might  be 
visited  by  scarcely  a  single  animal. 

If  the  bufliilo  did  not  come  to  the  Indian,  the 
Indian  must  go  to  the  buffalo,  at  whatever  hazard. 
Runners  were  sent  out,  the  location  of  the  buffalo 
discovered,  and  long  journeys  were  made  by  tribes 
and  bands  into  countries  to  which  they  had  no  claim. 

The  same  necessity  possibly  actuating  many  bands 
and  tribes,  the  country  in  the  vicinity  of  the  buffalo 
became  dangerous  ground.  The  tribe  or  band  in 
whose  territory  they  were,  regarded  the  buflalo  as 
their  own  property,  an  evidence  of  the  fiivor  of  God. 
They  resented  the  intrusion  of  other  bands  and  hunt- 
ing parties,  not  only  as  killing  and  driving  off  their 
propert}',  but  as  interfering  with  their  "medicine," 
the  medicine  chief  taking  care  that  all  shall  under- 
stand that  his  influence  with  God  brought  the  buf- 
falo. Each  year,  the  country  occupied  by  the  buffalo 
became  a  vast  bi.ttle-ground,  the  pi-oper  owners  at- 
tacking the  interlopers  at  every  fiivorable  opportunity. 

But  hunting  parties  met  other  hunting  parties  of 
tribes  not  hostile.  To  distinguish  between  tho  hostile 
and  the  friendly,  and  to  communicate  with,  and  pos- 
sibly make  common  cause  with  the  latter,  some  means 
of  intercourse  must  be  had.  Not  being  able  to  speak 
or  understand  each  other's  language,  communication 
v/as  had  by  signs. 

We  may  suppose  that  at  first  only  signs  most  nat- 


(vi.l^T 


-R^«W«■^^^T^"^f  ■rT^TTV"^:'"*"'''"~"'.\''-'-''^>"-'.''-"' 


A   UNIVERSAL   L^VNUUAGE. 


381 


ural  and  expressive  were  used.  By-and-by  other 
signs  Avere  introduced,  always  conventional,  but  be- 
coming more  and  more  arbitrary,  until  there  resulted 
a  means  of  communication  almost  as  perfect  as  if 
each  understood  and  spoke  the  oral  language  of  the 
other.  This  means  of  communication  is  used  in  its 
completeness  only  by  the  Plains  Indians,  and  is  called 
by  them  the  "  sign  language." 

The  use  of  signs  to  communicate  ideas  is  common 
to  all  the  world,  not  only  to  man,  but  to  the  brute 
creation,  and  from  the  simple  pleasure  evidenced  by 
the  wagging  of  a  dog's  tail,  to  abstruse  problems  in 
astronomy  and  metaphysics,  every  idea  may  be  com- 
municated by  means  of  signs. 

This  method  of  intercourse  was,  like  oral  speech, 
natural  and  instinctive,  and  is  in  constant  use  to  this 
day.  It  is  an  adjunct  to  oral  speech,  and  must  ever 
be  one  of  the  means  by  which  humanity  expresses  or 
modifies  its  ideas.  Not  one  of  us,  however  civilized, 
or  facile  in  the  use  of  oral  language,  but  every  day 
of  his  life  makes  use  of  signs  to  express  some  wish 
or  thought.  What  school-boy  would  dare  to  pretend 
to  misunderstand  the  beckon  of  his  teacher,  or  what 
urchin  but  has  had  his  soul  thrilled  with  inexpressible 
emotions  at  the  simple  pointing  by  his  mother  at  the 
hole  torn  in  his  new  trousers? 

All  people  use  more  or  less  gestures  or  signs,  but 
among  the  highly  cultivated  they  are  used  only  as 
adjectives,  adverbs,  interjections,  to  give  emphasis 
and  point  to  oral  speech. 

Speech  is  entirely  arbitrary  and  conventional,  but 
signs  have  their  origin  in  feelings  and  emotions  which 
are  common  to  all  mankind.  Every  spoken  language 
requires  another  language  to  interpret  it.     The  rudi- 


4' 


.^1 


:  .lW,u.?'.v>.'iA»-.'-i  i'  '■•■.A  .> 


"  T*  .  '  ^Ih;'^'     *■■-?•'■ 


y-M  -T  iBi'»f^  f-k^ir;^.-.-  -i  -■~^.  • 


382 


DIVERSITY   OF   TONGUES. 


.1'': 


•P^. 


■>? 


!«- 


fe"*^ 


ir 


ments  of  the  language  of  signs  require  on  the  one 
hand  only  so  clear  a  conception  of  the  idea  or  emo- 
tion as  to  make  a  sign  exp?'essive  of  its  posture  or 
effect,  and  on  the  other  an  equally  clear  conception, 
and  a  sufficient  perceptive  faculty. 

Signs  may  be  divided  into  two  classes.  First, 
those  imitative  or  descriptive  of  some  action,  or  ex- 
pressive of  some  emotion  or  situation.  These  may 
be  called  natural  signs,  and  are,  with  some  modifica- 
tions, common  to  all  mankind,  —  to  the  deaf  and 
dumb  pupil  of  civilization,  and  to  the  untamed  savage 
of  the  Plains.  Thus,  pointing  to  the  sun  and  indi- 
cating its  course  from  east  to  west,  is  the  natural  and 
obvious  sign  expression  for  a  day,  and  such  is  its 
meaning  to  all  people  who  use  sign  language. 

Second,  those  indicating  names  of  tribes,  jiersons, 
or  things,  or  abstract  ideas  not  sufficiently  pro- 
nounced to  admit  of  a  natural  sign  picture.  These 
signs  are  arbitrary,  and  vary  in  a  very  remarkable 
degree. 

In  a  previous  chapter  I  have  spoken  of  the  pride, 
self-conceit,  or  other  cause  which  prevents  an  In- 
dian of  one  tribe  from  speaking  the  language  of  an- 
other tribe. 

Dr.  Matthews,  speaking  of  the  Arickaree,  Ilidatsa, 
and  Mandan  Indians,  says:  "To  the  philologist  it  is 
an  interesting  fact,  that  this  trio  of  savage  clans,  al- 
though now  living  in  the  same  village,  and  having 
been  next  door  neighbors  to  each  other  for  more  than 
a  hundred  years  on  terms  of  peace  and  intimacy,  and 
to  a  great  extent  intermarried,  speak,  nevertheless,  to- 
tally distinct  lauguages  which  show  no  perceptible 
inclination  to  coalesce." 

The  same  general  statement  is  true  of  the  Chey- 


i 


I  I 


: V*  ' 


■  \7'-"'^'f'  '•':'• 


DIVERSITY    OF    SIGNS. 


383 


ic 


y 


1, 


.4(^ 


enncs  and  Arrapahoes.  The  parents  reside  year 
after  year  side  by  side  in  the  same  camps,  the  chil- 
dren play,  fight,  horse-race,  gamble,  and  grow  up 
together,  yet  one  will  never  speak  in  the  language  of 
the  other.  The  fact  is  a  curious,  almost  incredible 
one,  especially  as  the  Indians  themselves  can  or  will 
give  no  explanation  of  it. 

This  peculiarity  renders  the  use  of  a  common 
language  a  matter  of  paramount  importance  to  the 
Plains  Indians. 

When  two  people,  whether  civilized  or  savage, 
neither  speaking  nor  understanding  the  oral  language 
of  the  other,  meet  and  wish  to  communicate,  the  first 
and  mosc  natural  impulse  is  to  attempt  to  gain  or 
convey  information  by  means  (Jf  signs.  Even  at  the 
very  first  attempt,  some  ideas  will  be  interchanged, 
and  after  repeated  efforts,  they  will  have  so  far  pro- 
gressed as  to  be  able  to  exchange  ideas,  with  some 
certainty  and  satisfaction.  The  sign  language  un- 
doubtedly sprung  from  this  natural  tendency,  and 
has  its  foundation  in  those  natural  signs  and  gestures 
which  are  common  to  the  races  of  mankind. 

But  while  all  Indians,  as  all  white  people,  use 
signs,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  they  use  the  same 
signs  or  make  or  read  them  with  the  same  facility  and 
perfection.  Oral  speech  is  natural,  and  all  men 
use  the  language  to  which  they  were  brought  up 
with  a  certain  degree  of  ease  and  force.  Beyond 
its  simple  forms,  and  outside  a  lodge  of  Plains  In- 
dians, the  sign  language  is  acquired,  and  different 
men  use  it  skilfully  or  not,  in  accordance  »»ith  the 
quickness  of  apprehension  or  skill  as  pantomimist  of 
each. 

Many  of  the  Indian  tribes  are  almost  as  little  versed 


'% 


■>  '  Ml 


^■. 


384 


DOUBLE    LANGUAGE. 


-:>^. 


■:* 


1:1.1 


in  the  use  of  signs  as  ordinary  white  people.  Tliis  is 
especially  observable  among  the  Utcs,  so  mnch  so 
that  I  one  day  asked  Ouray  to  explain  it.  He  told 
me  that  his  people  never  used  the  sign  language 
among  themselves.  Most  of  the  warriors  had  picked 
up  a  little  smattering  of  this  language,  and  used  it  in 
their  intercourse  with  the  Plains  Indians,  or  with  the 
whites,  just  as  most  of  them  had  acquired  a  slight 
knowledge  of  Spanish,  by  and  for  use  in  their  trade 
with  Mexicans  and  Apaches. 

It  is  among  the  Plains  Indians  alone  that  gesture- 
speech  has  arrived  at  such  i)erfection,  that  it  may  prop- 
erly be  called  a  language,  and  this,  for  the  very  suf- 
ficient reason  that  these  tribes  use  it  not  only  in 
intercourse  with  people  whose  oral  language  they 
neither  speak  or  understand,  but  for  every  day  inter- 
course among  themselves.  In  their  own  camps  and 
families,  this  language  is  used  so  constantly  that  it 
becomes  a  natural  and  instinctive  habit;  almost  er^ry 
man,  even  when  using  oral  language,  accompanying 
his  words  by  sign-pictures  conveying  the  same  mean- 
ing. In  this  way  wondei'ful  facility  and  accuracy  of 
expression  by  signs  is  attained. 

That  this  excellence  is  acquired  can  readily  be  in- 
ferred fi'om  the  marked  difference  in  the  ability  to  use 
it,  not  only  in  the  tribes,  but  in  the  individuals  of  the 
same  tribe.  Almost  all  Plains  Indians  use  it,  some  so 
exceptionally  well,  making  their  sign-pictures  so  clear, 
that  they  can  readily  be  understood  by  any  one  who 
has  even  a  rudimentary  knowledge  of  the  ai*t ;  yet  I 
have  met  a  few  Plains  Indians,  who,  though  brought 
up  with  it,  have  never  arrived  at  sufficient  knowledge 
of  the  language  to  hold  a  conversation  in  it.  Within 
a  few  days  previous  to  this  wi'iting,  an  Arrapahoe 


^ 


^  ff'O'i^  ;V"'<' 


.■**.:■ 


kfm:\wz 


INVENTORS   OF   SIGN  LANGUAGE. 


385 


came  to  this  post  on  business  with  a  Cheyenne,  and 
was  obHged  to  obtain  the  services  of  the  intei'pretcr, 
being  unable  to  use  or  understand  signs. 

Within  comparatively  a  few  years,  the  attention 
of  philologists  has  been  particnlarly  directed  to  the 
sign  language.  Some  authorities  assert  that  "  all  the 
tribes  of  North  American  Indians,  have  had  and  still 
use  a  common  and  identical  sign  language  of  ancient 


origui, 


11  rr 


which  serves  as  a  medium  of  converse  from 
Hudson  Bay  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico."  Others  deny 
this. 

Like  most  other  broad  statements,  this,  in  my  ex- 
perience, is  partly  true  and  partly  false.  It  is  not 
^'connnon"  to  all  North  American  Indians.  The 
Utes,  the  Pacific  tribes  who  use  "Chinook,"  the  In- 
dians of  the  Colorado  Iliver,  the  Apaches,  Mohaves, 
Moquis,  Pueblos,  Navahoes  and  others,  use  signs,  as 
do  all  men,  but  they  do  not  use  or  understand  the 
sign  language  of  the  Plains.  It  is  "  common  "  to  all 
Indians  between  the  Mississippi  River  and  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  from  the  British  line  to  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico;  that  is,  to  all  the  Plains  Indiaiis. 

The  Plains  Indians  themselves  believe  that  the  sign 
language  was  invented  by  the  Kiowas,  who,  holding  an 
intermediate  position  between  the  Comanches,  Tonka- 
ways,  Lipans,  and  other  inhabitants  of  the  vast  plains 
of  Texas,  and  the  Pawnees,  Sioux,  Blackfcet,  and 
other  Northern  tribes,  were  the  general  go-betweens ; 
trading  with  all,  or  making  peace  or  war,  with,  or  for, 
any  or  all.  It  is  certain  that  the  Kiowas  are  at  pres- 
ent more  universally  proficient  in  this  language  than 
any  other  Plains  tribe.  It  is  also  certain  that  the 
tribes  furthest  away  from  them,  and  with  whom  they 
have  least  intercourse,  use  it  with  least  facility. 


;.-i,;"c-i;'.feiii:-' 


*iv%'  iir>'.- 


"  -'V'-^frw  » ;  '%^v^''^Ti  ~, 


»!»*-ff%»>T.'V"'»:"n  • 


'/".'  ■^.f^t^-y--^ ' 


38G 


IDENTITY  OP  SIGNS. 


*. 


The  sign  language  is  a  true  language,  and  like  all 
other  languages  used  by  great  numbers  of,  or  widely 
scattered,  people,  it  has  its  dialects  and  its  provincial- 
isms. It  is  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  "common  or 
identical"  language,  but  in  all  the  vast  area  I  have 
indicated,  it  varies  less  than  the  English  language  in 
its  two  small  home  islands,  or  the  French  language  in 
the  territoi'y  of  France. 

If  the  English  language  is  "common  and  identical" 
in  England,  Ireland,  Scotland,  and  Wales,  then  the 
sign  language  is  "common  and  identical"  to  the 
Plains. 

An  American  travelling  in  Scotland,  Wales,  Corn- 
wall, or  Yorkshire,  is  in  endless  trouble  to  understand 
the  English  spoken  to  him.  An  Englishman  of  no 
more  intelligence  or  no  better  education  will  travel 
without  this  difficulty,  for  by  contact  and  habit,  he 
has  gained  some  knowledge  of  the  dialects  and  pro- 
vincialisms. The  Englishman  will  assert  that  the  in- 
habitants of  the  British  Islands  bp(  ak  a  "  common  and 
identical  "  language;  the  American  with  equal  positive- 
ness  will  assert  that  the  languages  are  different.  This 
is  all  there  is  to  the  controversy  on  the  sign  language. 

Taking  into  consideration  the  vastness  of  territory 
and  the  sparseness  of  population,  the  sign  language  is 
remarkabl}-^  "identical."  Considering  further,  the  fact 
that  the  language  is  made  up  of  signs  representing  not 
only  all  animated  nature,  but  relationships,  time,  place, 
circumstances,  thoughts,  feelings,  and  abstract  ideas 
of  ever^'  kind,  the  uniformity  is  indeed  marvellous. 
Put  a  pantomimist  on  the  stage,  and  set  a  dozen  ex- 
pert scientists  to  record  his  action.  It  is  certain  that 
no  two  of  them  would  use  the  same  language,  doubt- 
ful if  an\  two  of  them  would  express  the  same  idea. 


IMITATIVE   FACULTY. 


387 


So  of  the  Indian  tribes.  One  represents  the  deer  by 
his  horns,  another  by  his  fleetnoss,  yet  another  by  his 
broad  white  tail;  but  so  apt  are  they  at  ilhistration 
and  so  quick  of  comprehension,  that  these  dialects  or 
provincialisms  are  mere  momentary  hindrances. 

Many  of  them  can  express  the  same  thing  by  seve- 
ral signs,  and  if  the  person  with  whom  he  is  convers- 
ing I'ails  to  understand  one,  he  will  try  another  and 
another.  , 

A  curious  peculiarity,  illustrative  of  the  imitative 
faculty  of  the  Indian,  is  that  he  will  catch  and  use  the 
signs  of  the  person  with  whom  lie  is  talking,  though 
he  may  never  have  seen  them  before.  An  Indian  is 
talking  to  a  white  man,  slightly  versed  in  the  lan- 
guage, or  other  Indian  with  whose  provincialisms  he 
is  not  familiar.  A  sign  is  used  which  he  does  not 
understand.  By  close  and  careful  watching,  he  will 
soon  discover  what  the  user  means  to  represent  by  it, 
and  if  he  then  wishes  to  speak  of  that  thing,  he  will 
use  the  sign  of  the  other  person,  even  though  he 
knows  it  to  be  a  wrong  one. 

In  oral  language,  an  idea  may  be  expressed  in  an 
almost  infinite  variety  of  ways;  the  sign  language, 
though  not  so  flexible,  yet  gives  ample  facilities  for 
varying  the  expression. 

The  oral  languages  of  the  Indian  tribes  with  which 
I  am  acquainted,  are  crude  and  imperfect,  consisting 
of  nouns,  verbs,  adjectives,  adverbs,  lacking  in  case, 
number,  tense,  or  mood,  and  run  together  in  intermi- 
nable strings,  each  of  which  presents,  as  it  were,  a 
word-picture,  the  whole  giving  a  very  definite  idea  of 
the  facts  sought  to  be  communicated.  This  idiom- 
atic mode  of  thought  and  expression  offers  peculiar 
facilities  for  the  use  of  the  sign  language. 


»;» 


'■:'^ 


^livj.  ■• .'- 


^■^»;-^':;*.!-»WY!r 


388 


DIFFEREXCES  IN  STYLE. 


In  translating  into  that  language  the  thought  or 
speech  of  a  white  man,  the  first  necessity  is  to  get  ri^ 
of  the  iiarticles,  articles,  conjunctions,  prepositions, 
then  to  transpose  and  group  the  remainder,  and  to 
present  each  suhordinate  idea  in  such  succession  as 
finall}^  to  represent  clearly  and  fully  the  whole  idea. 
This  is  really  the  most  difficult  portion  of  the  work  of 
an  interpreter,  and  requires  a  special  faculty. 

Besides  the  "dialects  and  provincialisms,"  there  is 
another  natural,  hut  most  serious  difficulty  in  attempt- 
ing to  learn  or  to  describe  the  sign  language:  so  seri- 
ous indeed  that  I  doubt  if  any  man  ever  arrived  at 
even  average  excellence  in  the  art  unless  habituated 
to  its  use  from  earliest  childhood. 

This  difficulty  results  from  the  personality  of  each 
Indian,  every  man  having  his  own  stjMe  of  expression, 
just  as  every  white  man  has  his  own  style  of  penman- 
ship. This  individuality  of  style  may  very  properly 
be  called  the  handwriting  of  the  Indian;  each,  though 
making  the  same  signs,  makes  them  difi'erently  from 
all  others,  as  the  handwriting  of  each  white  man  dif- 
fers from  that  of  all  others. 

Ask  an  Indian  to  give  you  the  sign  of  anything,  and 
he  proceeds  to  make  it  formally,  giving  what  may  be 
regarded  the  sign  in  capital  letters,  ditfering  from  the 
sign  he  would  make  in  rapid  conversation,  possibly 
quite  as  widely  as  the  printed  capital  "B,"  differs 
from  the  small  "b"  of  a  rapidly  written  manuscript. 

In  addition  to  the  difficulties  already  enumerated, 
there  are  yet  others,  in  an  almost  infinite  number  and 
variety  of  abbreviations.  For  instance,  to  tell  a  man 
"to  talk,"  the  most  common  formal  sign  is  made  thus: 
hold  the  right  hand  in  front  of,  the  back  near  the 
mouth,  ends  of  thumb  and  index  finger  joined  into 


1 


lor 
'id 
lis, 
^to 
las 
;a. 
lof 


ABBREVIATION   OF   SIGNS. 


389 


an  O,  the  otliL"'  fingers  closed  on  the  pahn;  throw  the 
hand  forward  sharply  by  a  quiok  motion  of  the  wrist, 
and  at  the  same  time  flip  forward  the  index  finger. 
This  may  be  done  once  or  several  times. 

The  formal  sign  to  "  cease,"  or  ""  stop  doing  "  any- 
thing, is  made  by  bringing  the  two  hands,  open  and 
held  vertically,  in  front  of  the  body,  one  behind  the 
other;  then  qriv;kly  pass  one  upward,  the  other 
downward,  simnlating  somewhat  the  motion  of  the 
limbs  of  a  pair  of  scissors,  meaning  ''cut  it  off." 
This  latter  sign  is  made  in  conversation,  in  a  variety 
of  ways,  but  habitually  with  one  hand  only. 

The  formal  sign  for  "stop  talking,"  is  first  to  make 
the  formal  sign  for  "  talk,"  then  the  formal  sign  for 
"cut;"  but  this  is  commonly  abbreviated  by  first 
making  the  formal  sign  "  talk,"  with  the  right  hand, 
and  then  immediately  passing  the  same  hand,  open, 
fingers  extended,  downward,  across  and  in  front  of 
the  mouth,  "  talk  cut." 

But  thongh  the  Plains  Indian,  if  asked  for  the  sign 
to  "  stop  talking,"  will  properly  give  the  sign  either 
in  its  extended  or  abbreviated  form,  as  above,  he  in 
conversation  abbreviates  it  so  much  further,  that  the 
sign  loses  almost  all  resemblance  to  its  formal  self. 
Wiiatever  the  position  of  the  hand,  a  turn  of  the 
wrist,  a  flip  of  the  forefinger,  and  a  turn  of  the  wrist 
back  to  its  original  position,  is  fully  equivalent  to  the 
elaborate  signs. 

This,  by  the  by,  is  one  of  the  most  significant  and 
comprehensive  of  Indian  signs.     It  may  mean  simple 


acquiescence,  as  we  express  by  "very  well,"  "all 
right;"  or  com})rehension,  "I  understand;"  impa- 
ti<Mice,  "you  have  talked  enough;"  or  downright 
anger,  "  shut  up." 


■m 


''M 


390 


DIFFICULTY  IN  LEARNING. 


■t 


ft 


5 


f' 


Examples  of  similar  abbi'eviations  could  be  given 
almost  ad  lihitum. 

That  such  liberties  can  be  taken  with  it,  and  it  yet 
so  far  preserve  its  original  purity  and  completeness 
as  to  furnish  a  means  of  communication  so  perfect 
that  individuals  of  tribes  living  a  thousand  miles 
apart,  and  who  have  never  met  before,  can  converse 
with  case  and  certaintv,  is  the  best  evidence  that  it  is 
a  true  language,  founded  on  a  solid  basis  of  correct 
principles.  To  learn  it  sufficiently  v/ell  for  ordinary 
intercourse  is  no  more  difficult  than  to  learn  any  for- 
eign language;  to  master  it,  one  must  have  been 
born  in  a  lodge  of  Plains  Indians,  and  have  been 
accustomed  to  its  daily  and  hourly  use  from  his  ear- 
liest to  mature  years. 

Even  among  the  Plains  tribes,  only  the  old,  or  at 
least  middle-aged  men,  use  it  perfectly.  I  have  never 
yet  seen  a  woman,  child,  or  young  man,  who  was  at 
all  reliable  in  signs. 

Every  tribe  of  the  Plains  has  not  only  its  distinc- 
tive name,  but  also  its  sign,  by  which  it  is  known  and 
designated  by  all  other  Indians.  In  some  cases, 
these  signs  indicate  the  character  of  the  tribe;  in 
others  they  appear  to  be  purely  arbitrary,  —  at  least, 
no  Indian  appears  to  be  able  to  give  any  satisfactory 
explanation  of  their  origin  or  meaning. 

I  give  a  few  of  these,  to  illustrate  their  pecu- 
liarities :  — 


i 


I, 

'4 


Indian-generic.  Left  hand  open,  fingers  extended  and  joined,  palm 
down,  is  held  in  front  of  centre  of  body.  Tlie  back  of  the  hand  is  then 
gently  rubbed  with  the  fingers  of  the  right  hand. 

Sioux.  Pass  the  right  hand  open,  palm  down  and  horizontal,  fingere 
extended  from  left  to  right  across  the  throat,  "  Cut  throat ; "  indicat- 
ing their  chai-acter  and  habit. 

Cheyenne.    The  index  finger  of  the  left  hand  (or  the  whole  hand)  is 


si  'L~'"- 


m 

t 

s 

t 

s 
e 
s 
t 

y 

r- 

n 

n 

r- 


^WiW 


SIGNS. 


391 


held  horizontally  in  front  of  the  body.  The  index  finger  of  the  right 
hand  is  then  passed  across  it  several  times,  as  if  cutting,  "Cut  finger." 
Origin  or  reason  for  sign  unknown.  The  Sioux  indicate  the  Northern 
Cheyennes  by  making  the  cuts  on  the  forearm,  a  little  above  the  wrist. 

Akuapaiioe.  With  in(4ex  finger  of  right  hand  extended,  rub  right 
side  of  nose.    Origin  and  meaning  unknown. 

NouTiiLKN  Ai.UArAiiOE.  Join  fingers  and  thumb  of  right  hand,  and 
strike  the  points  on  left  breast  several  times. 

Pawnees.  Right  hand,  first  two  fingers  extended  and  separated,  is 
held  l)eliind  the  right  ear,  and  then  thrown  forward;  action  repeated, 
"  Wolf;  "  indicat'ng  character. 

Comanche.  Right  hand  extended  to  left  and  front  of  body,  index 
finircr  extended,  others  closed.  Draw  tlie  hand  backward  witli  a  wriff- 
gling  motion  across  the  body,  "  Snake;  "  indicating  character. 

Kiow.v.  The  open  palm,  held  bowl-shaped,  to  right  of  and  beside  the 
face,  is  passed  round  and  round  in  a  circle.  Supposed  to  indicate  the 
peculiarity  of  these  Indians  in  cutting  the  hair  of  the  right  side  of  the  head. 

Ute.  Left  hand  held  horizontally  in  front  of  the  body,  fingers  ex- 
tended, thumb  closed  on  palm,  edge  of  liand  down.  Then  with  extended 
fingers  of  right  hand,  rub  gently  towards  the  wrist,  along  the  extended 
index  finger  of  left  hand ;  or  make  the  sign  for  black  and  the  generic 
sign  for  Indians.  The  Utos  ai'e  very  dark,  and  are  called  by  the  Plains 
tribes,  "  the  black  Indians." 

Apache.  Hold  the  left  hand  exactly  as  in  sign  for  Ute,  Then  with 
oxtcndecl  fingers  of  right  hand  fiip  back  and  forth  on  the  index  of  left 
''.and,  as  a  barber  strops  a  razor.     Origin  and  meaning  unknown. 

AViMTi:  ^Ian.     Right  h;'.nd  open,  fingers  extended  and  horizontal,  car-* 
ci!  to  the  left  side  of  tiie  head,  tiicm  passed  from  left  to  right  across  the 
fceliead,  indicating  the  brim  of  a  hat;  "Ilat  wearers." 

!Me.xican.  Tiie  open  palm,  held  bowl-shaped  beneath  the  chin,  is 
passed  round  and  round  in  a  circle;  "Beard  wearers." 

Xecho.  Rul)  tlie  extended  finjjers  of  the  riffiit  hand  on  some  dark 
object,  and  then  make  the  sign  for  white  man;  "  Black  white  man." 

Able  men  are  now  engaged  in  classifying  and 
arranging  these  signs  into  a  vocabulary,  with  hojie  of 
such  ultimate  success  as  will  place  this  among  the  lan- 
guages open  to  the  mastery  of  the  student  of  books. 
I  can,  in  these  pages,  give  only  the  most  superficial 
idea  of  the  power  and  scope  of  this  language,  and  to 
this  end  I  add  a  few  descriptions  of  signs. 

Man.  Index  finger  of  right  hand  held  erect  before  the  face,  back  to 
front ;  push  slightly  outwards  and  upwards. 

25 


'^^'i 


'~"'.T:f '■'■l*^'^--' 


392 


SIGNS. 


.?■ 


I' 


B 


WoMAX.  Right  hand,  fingers  open  but  joined,  back  to  front,  is  pn«?ed 
with  !i  circular,  sweeping  motion  to  tlie  right  side  of  face  ami  head, 
indicating  llowing  liair, 

MAKKiAciE.  Indices  of  riglit  and  left  hands  joined  side  by  side,  backs 
up,  in  front  of  body,  thumbs  and  otiier  lingers'tlosed. 

Husband.     Sign  for  man,  and  marriage. 

Wife.     Sign  for  woman,  and  marriage. 

Pauextage.  Right  hand,  bowl-shaped,  turned  towards  right  breast, 
as  if  grasping  a  pap. 

Father.    Sign  for  parentage,  and  man.  * 

MoriiEU.     Sign  for  parentage,  and  woman. 

Ofi'SPKixg.  Right  hand  passed  downwards  in  front  of  crotch,  index 
extended,  other  fingers  closed;  sex  indicated  as  before. 

BuoTiiEU.  Index  and  middle  finger  of  riglit  hand  placed  in  mouth, 
back  of  hand  up,  and  sign  for  man. 

SiSTEU.     Same,  witli  sign  for  woman. 

Cousin.  Sign  for  brother  and  sister,  as  above;  but  if  pressed  for 
closer  explanation,  make  sign  for  fatiier  (or  mother),  brother,  and  off- 
spring, with  additional  sign  for  sex. 

BuoTiiEU-iN-LAW.  Ilold  left  hand  obliquely  to  the  front,  towards 
centre  of  body,  forearm  nearly  horizontal,  j)alm  to  the  right,  then  jiass 
the  open  right  hand  from  the  left  shoulder  downwards,  with  a  circular 
sweep,  around  and  outside  the  h'Sl  hand. 

Day.  Hands  open,  fingers  extended,  palms  upward,  are  carried  from 
front  and  centre  of  body  to  eacli  side,  and  held  horizontal  and  motion- 
less, backs  down;  indicating  "all  open." 

Night.  Ilamls  open,  fingers  extended  and  joined,  palms  down,  are 
carried  to  centre  of  body,  and  crossed,  right  hand  above,  l)nt  not  touch- 
ing, and  held  motionless;  indicating  "  all  closed." 

Sun.  Right  hand  and  arm  extended  upwards,  thumb  and  forefinger 
formed  into  a  crescent,  other  fingers  closed. 

Moon.     Sign  for  sun,  and  night. 

Si'KiXG.  Place  riglit  hand  near  the  ground,  back  downward,  the 
thumb  and  fingers  extended  upward  (this  is  the  sign  for  grass) ;  tlu'U 
raise  the  liand  a  few  inches  once  or  twice,  to  represent  the  grass 
growing. 

SiMAiEU.  Both  hands  held  high  above  and  in  front  of  the  head,  on 
each  side,  fingers  extended  and  pointing  obliquely  downward ;  indicating 
the  sun's  rays. 

AuTUVix,  Left  hand  held  well  up  in  front  and  left  of  body,  back  to 
front,  fingers  and  thumb  extended  upward  to  represent  the  bi-anches 
(this  is  the  sign  for  tree) ;  with  right  index  touch  a  finger  of  left  hand, 
and  then  carry  right  hand  downward,  as  something  falling  slowly.  Do 
this  several  times. 

WixTEH.    Both  hands  in  front  of  body,  fingers  and  tliumbs  closed. 


SIGNS. 


393 


3 


r 


Counting. 


Question,  IIow  Many? 


rffjht  linnd  aliovo,  .are  shaken  backward  and  forward,  with  a  shivering 
motion.     This  is  i'.lso  the  sign  for  year  and  cold. 

T.ME.  Hands  partially  opened,  backs  to  right  and  left,  thumbs  and 
indices  closed,  as  if  Jioldlng  a  string  between  them,  are  lield  a  few  inciies 
apart,  in  front  of  the  body.  This  is  the  general  sign,  to  ask  t!io  ques- 
tion. 

Is  IT  A  Long  or  Shout  Time?  The  liands,  held  as  above,  are  sepa- 
rated some  inches,  and  then  brought  near  each  other. 

Long  Time.  The  hands,  held  as  above,  are  drawn  apart  by  a  series 
of  jerking  motions,  the  distance  finally  separated  indicating  the  lengtli 
of  time. 

Iniixitely  Long  Time.  J  Make  sign  for  "long  time,"  for  "not,"  and 

Eteknity.  I      for  "cut  off." 

SiiOKT  Time.  Hold  the  hands  as  above,  some  little  distance  apart,  and 
then  approach  them  lo  each  other. 

Hold  the  left  hand  in  front  of  centre  of 
body,  palm  up,  fingers  partially  opened, 
but  not  joined ;  then  with  right  index 
finger  fiip  (towards  body)  rapidly  and 
successively,  two  or  three  fingers  of  the 
left  hand,  commencing  with  the  little 
finger. 

One.  Right  hand  closed,  except  index,  back  of  hand  to  front,  held  in 
front  of  body;  (almost  identical  with  sign  for  man,  that  being  distin- 
guished by  its  upw.-'rd  motion). 

Two.     Same  motion  with  index  and  little  finger. 

TiiKEE.     Same  with  index,  middle,  and  third  fingers. 

Fouil.     Same  with  four  lingers. 

Five.  All  the  fingers  and  thumb  open,  palm  upi-ight  and  to  the  front, 
with  forward  motion. 

Six.  Thumb  of  left  hand  held  upright,  fingers  closed,  is  held  in  front 
of  face,  and  in  close  juxtaposition  to  right  hand,  with  all  the  digits  ex- 
tended.    All  are  then  advanced  with  a  .'light  motion. 

Seven.     Same,  with  thumb  and  inu  ^x  of  left  hand. 

Eight.     Same,  with  thumb,  index,  and  middle  finger  of  left. 

Nine.     Same,  with  four  fingers  of  left  hand. 

Ten.  Both  hands  open,  palms  upright,  fingers  extended,  with  same 
forward  motion-. 

Eleven.  Make  sign  for  ten,  then  bring  the  hands  down  and  close 
them ;  then  raise  the  right  hand  palm  to  front,  all  fingers  closed  except 
little  linger,  which  is  held  upright. 

Twelve.    Same,  little  and  third  fingers  held  upright. 

Tiiikteen.     Same,  little,  third,  and  middle  lingers  held  up. 

FouuTEEN.     Same,  four  fingers  held  up. 

Fifteen.    Right  hand  held  up,  all  digits  extended. 


'% 


-1 


m 


i 


f 


■  -  "t 


'j'. 


.1, 


v^ 


>- 

>-,' 
*: 


394 


EXPERTXESS   IN   SIGN  LANGUAGE. 


Sixteen.    Same,  right  hand,  and  thumb  of  left,  and  so  to  nineteen. 

Twenty'.  Sign  made  to  a  white  man  would  be  the  repeated  sign  for 
ten,  but  in  the  "  language,"  it  is  made  by  holding  the  right  hand,  all  the 
fingers  closed  except  tiie  little  and  third  lingers,  to  the  right,  but  in  front 
of  the  face,  and  tlien  describe  a  circle  to  the  left,  in  front  of  face.  This 
motion  multiplies  by  ten  the  number  of  lingers  held  up. 

One  IIlndkeu.  Witli  both  hands  lield  iiprigiit  before  the  face,  lingers 
extended,  palms  to  front,  describe  the  semicircle  to  left. 

One  Thousand.     !Make  sign  for  ten,  and  then  the  sign  for  luindrcd. 

These  may  be  all  regarded  as  natural  signs.  I 
will  give  one  example  of  what  may  be  called  a  com- 
plex sign.  To  express  liquid  coiFee,  ready  for  the 
table,  the  Indian  represents,  — 

The  Bean.  Thumb  pressed  against  forefinger  of  right  liand.  a  short 
distance  from  the  tip,  other  D'-^'.-rs  closed;  (a  natural  sigTi  for  any  small 
object). 

A  Pot  Thumb  and  forefingers  of  l)oth  liands,  open  and  crescent- 
shaped,  other  fingers  closed,  palms  inward,  are  JK'ld  about  a  foot  apart. 

To  Put  on.  Hands  so  held  are  moved  downward  towards  ground,  as 
if  patting  on  a  fire. 

T<  Boil.  Both  hands  held  low  in  front  of  body,  backs  down,  fingers 
partially  closed;  then  flip  out  thumbs  and  fingers,  at  same  time  making 
a  slight  upward  motion  of  wrists. 

To  Dhink.  Right  hand,  held  as  if  gi-asping  a  cup,  is  carried  to  tlie 
mouth,  and  turned  np  as  in  tlie  act  of  drinking. 

Cofeee.  The  iea?t,  tliat  you  put  in  nj^ot,  and  put  on  ihejire,  and  boil, 
and  tlien  drink. 

An  expert  sign-talker  will  make  the  five  signs 
necessary  to  express  coffee  almost  as  quickly  as  that 
word  can  be  uitered. 

Seemingly  impossible  as  it  would  appear  from  the 
foregoing  description,  two  expert  sign-talkers  cm- 
gaged  in  conversation  Avill  make  every  sign  with  one 
hand  so  distinctly  as  to  be  understood.  Two  Indians, 
each  wrapped  in  a  blanket  tightly  held  with  the  left 
hand,  will  thrust  the  right  from  under  its  folds  and 
engage  in  animated  conversation.  So  also  when  on 
horseback,  though  the  left  hand  is  holding  the  reins, 
the  conversation  will  not  flag,  nor  be  misunderstood. 


t-j» 


J" 


m 


I 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


INDIAX     CTIPtOXOLOGY  —  DEVICES      FOR     RECKONIXG 
TIME  —  KEEPING   TRACK   OF   THE   YEaUiS. 


Al 


r 


Keeping  Track  of  the*  Years  —  Counting  by  "Days,"  "Sleeps," 
"iMoons,"  and  "  Winters,"  — i\Iy  Personal  Observations  — Tiie  Fruits 
of  Research —  The  ]\Ioon  when  Corn  is  Planted  —  New  Year's 
Day  —  The  First  Snow-fall  —  A  Puzzling  Interview  —  An  Old  Chey- 
enne's Opinion — "Some  Years  Have  More  Moons  than  Others"  — 
Tile  Sioux  Calendar— A  Wonderful  Cin-onological  C"  rt — In  the 
Hands  of  Curiosity-hunters  —  Excited  Hopes  —  ProvoKing  Revela- 
tions—  Fac  Simile  of  the  Calendar  —  Seventy  Years  in  a  Nutshell  — 
Tell-tale  Ilieroglypiiies  —  Solution  of  the  Mystery  —  Applying  tho 
Key  —  Finding  an  Old  Woman  in  a  Buflalo  —  Old  Folk  Lore  —  A 
Legend  of  the  Pacific  Coast  —  A  "Boston  Man." 

HE  appliances  of  civilization,  the  com- 
forts conferred  on  us  by  science,  have 
become  so  much  a  matter  of  habit, 
that  we  fiiil  to  realize  them.  When 
we  wake  up  in  the  night,  and  strike  a 
light  on  the  instant,  do  we  ever  think 
how  our  grandfathers  arrived  at  the 
same  result  by  laborious  effort  with  flint 
and  steel,  and  vast  expenditure  of  bioath 
to  fan  the  tiny  spark  into  flame  sufficient  to  light  the 
attenuated  tallow  dip?  So  in  everything  we  do  and 
use. 

But,  had  some  evil  genius  the  power  and  will  to 
deprive  us  of  one  of  the  blessings  conferred  by  sci- 
ence, he  could  strike  a  no  more  eflcctive  blow  than  to 
take  away  our  system  of  computing  time.     Accus- 

395 


)  '4 


•     l- 


!'?*■■ 


396 


NO    STiVXDARD   OF   TIME. 


tomed  to  the  regularity,  the  simple  perfection  of  the 
eivilized  method,  we  scarcely  realize  its  value  or  the 
absolute  chaos  that  would  be  the  result  of  its  loss. 

In  our  calendar,  every  minute,  every  hour,  day, 
month,  and  year,  is  absolutely  fixed  for  us  by  stable 
points  of  reference.  The  whole  lil'e  of  a  civilized 
being  is  regulated  by  time.  lie  rises  at  a  certain 
time  in  the  morning;  his  meals,  his  business,  his 
meeting  with  friends,  his  attendance  at  church  or 
elsewhere,  all  are  regulated  by  fixed  times.  lie  starts 
on  a  journey  at  a  certain  hour,  and  terminates  it  with 
equal  regularity.  Every  duty,  every  pleasure,  every 
movement  of  his  life  is  regulated  by  time,  and  the 
watches  of  busy  men  are  in  demand  for  consultation 
at  any  and  all  times. 

But  it  is  not  only  in  our  daily  duties  and  avocations 
that  we  realize  the  value  of  our  system.  Our  years 
commencing  on  a  certain  day,  and  each  having  a 
number,  Ave  have  a  constant  point  of  refer-^nce  by 
which  we  are  enabled  to  locate  the  occurrences  of  our 
past  lives,  or  fix  with  some  certainty  our  plans  for  the 
future. 

These  apparently  trite  remarks  are  intended  to 
cause  the  reader  to  look  into  his  own  life,  his  memo- 
ries of  the  past,  movements  of  the  present,  and  plans 
for  the  future,  and  see  what  would  be  the  result  to 
him  could  this  element  of  certainty  in  time  be  elimi- 
nated, lie  will  then  be  in  a  frame  of  mind  better 
adapted  to  the  contemplation  of  the  condition  of  a 
people  who  have  no  time. 

The  Indians  measure  time  solely  by  days,  by  sleeps, 
by  moons,  and  by  winters.  There  is  no  name  for  any 
subdivision  of  time  less  than  a  day.  When  it  is  de- 
sired to  indicate  any  shorter  period,  he  points  to  the 


. 


^ 


COMPUTIXa   BY   MOONS. 


397 


r 


heavens,  and  measuring  off  a  space,  says  "  it  was  as 
long  as  it  would  take  the  sun  to  go  from  there  to 
there."  "Day"  is  from  daylight  to  darkness;  "  sleep," 
or  night,  from  dark  until  daylight.  There  is  no  name 
for  any  day  among  the  Avild  Indians,  though  those  about 
agencies  call  Sunday  "  the  day  the  white  man  does 
not  work."  There  is  no  subdivision  of  time  corre- 
si)onding  to  our  week. 

A  moon  commences  when  the  first  faint  streak  of 
its  crescent  can  be  discovered  in  the  west,  and  Lists 
until  the  next  one  appears,  but  the  days  of  the  moon 
are  neither  numbered  nor  named. 

There  is  a  difference  among  authorities  as  to  whether 
or  not  the  moons  themselves  are  named.  Brown  gives 
names  for  nine  moons  corresponding  to  months. 
Maximillian  gives  the  names  of  twelve  moons;  and 
Belden,*  who  lived  many  years  among  the  Sioux, 
asserts  that "  the  Indians  compute  their  time  very  much 
as  white  men  do,  only  they  use  moons  instead  of 
months  to  designate  the  seasons,  each  answering  to 
some  month  in  our  calendar."  Then  follows  a  list  of 
twelve  moons  with  Indian  and  English  names.  While 
I  caimot  contradict  so  positive  and  minute  a  state- 
ment of  one  so  thoi'oughly  in  a  position  to  know,  I 
must  assert  with  equal  positiveness  that  I  have  never 
met  any  wild  Indians,  of  the  Sioux  or  other  Plains 
tribes,  who  had  a  permanent,  common,  conventional 
name  for  any  moon.  The  looseness  of  Belden's  gen- 
eral statement,  that  "  Indians  compute  time  like  white 
people,"  when  his  only  particularization  of  similarity 
is  between  the  months  and  moons,  is  in  itself  sufficient 
to  render  the  whole  statement  questionable. 

My  experience  is  that  the  Indian,  in  attempting  to 

*  The  "  White  Ctflef,"  page  289. 


'¥  : 


^\  ■-«■-!."  ■.«-':'..-,^  "'■',£- *!;*.. 


'j^?;"',  -wi'^'""V'Eii»^'^w>.;>:*Y'- 


398 


MOONS  AND   SNOWS. 


.V 

■fc 


* 


.■^' 


fix  on  a  particular  moon,  will  designate  it  by  some 
natural  and  well-known  phenomenon  which  culmi- 
nates during  that  moon.  But  two  Indians  of  the 
same  tribe  may  fix  on  different  designations ;  and  even 
the  same  Indian,  on  different  occasions,  may  give 
different  names  to  the  same  moon.  Thus,  an  Indian 
of  the  middle  Plains  will  to-day  designate  a  s])ring 
moon  as  "  the  moon  when  corn  is  planted ; "  to-mor- 
row, speaking  of  the  same  moon,  he  may  call  it  ^'the 
moon  when  the  buffalo  comes."  Moreover,  though 
there  are  thirteen  moons  in  our  year,  no  observer  has 
ever  given  an  Indian  name  to  the  thirteenth.  My 
opinion  is,  that  if  any  of  the  wild  tribes  have  given 
conventional  names  to  twelve  moons,  it  is  not  an 
indigenous  idea,  but  borrowed  from  the  whites. 

There  is  no  Indian  word  synonymous  with  our  Avord 
year.  "From  winter  to  winter,"  is  the  nearest  ap- 
proach to  it.*  The  year  commences  at  the  first  fall 
of  snow.  A  man  will  tell  you  that  he  is  so  many 
wintei's  old,  which  in  the  aggregate  represents  his 
years ;  but  having  no  months  or  days,  he  never  has  a 
birthday.  I  have  questionec'  many  Indians  of  differ- 
ent tribes,  and  have  never  yet  foimd  one  who  could  tell 
how  many  lunations  (or  moons)  there  are  in  a  year; 
and  this  is  unavoidable,  for  as  the  new  year  dates  from 
the  first  snow,  its  commencement  is  uncertain,  and  its 
duration  extremely  indefinite. 

"  Stone,"  a  very  intelligent  old  Cheyenne,  has  been 
sitting  with  me  in  my  quarters  for  the  two  hours  im- 
mediately preceeding  the  writing  of  this  paragraph. 

*  The  Cheyenne  word  "I-ndve"  means  winter,  and  is  always  used  to 
desijrnatc  year.  Snow  in  the  same  lanfrnajie  is  "  Ilis-tas,"  and  is  not  used 
to  d(>signato  year.  They  use  the  two  words  very  miicli  as  Ave  do.  Tims, 
speaking  of  an  old  man,  a  common  expression  is,  "  tlie  histas  (snows)  of 
many  I-neve  (winters  oryears)  have  whitened  his  head." 


vi 


P 


:-;.!_» : 


■T  V 


DESIGNATING  YEARS. 


399 


f 


-Mt 


"We  talked  of  "snows"  and  "moons,"  until  I  fear 
the  old  man  went  off  in  a  state  of  semi-idiocy.  He 
is  a  Northern  Cheyenne,  and  for  the  first  twenty-five 
years  of  liis  life,  his  tribe  occupied  country  contiguous 
to  the  Sioux.  The  tribes  were  friendly,  and  he  learned 
a  good  deal  about  them  and  their  customs.  He  has 
never  heard  a  fixed  name  given  to  a  moon  by  any 
Indians.  At  the  question,  "How  many  moons  are 
there  in  a  year?  "  he  looked  greatly  puzzled,  evidently 
never  having  thought  of  it  before.  Finally,  however, 
brightening  up,  he  answered, — 

"  Some  years  have  more  moons  than  others.  One 
year  may  have  only  ten  moons,  but  the  next  year  may 
have  fifteen." 

The  Indians  who  formerly  inhabited  the  southern 
portion  of  Texas,  where  there  is  no  snow  fall,  are  said 
to  have  fixed  the  commencement  of  the  year  at  the 
first  "Norther,"  a  furious  and  chilling  wind  that 
sweeps  fi'om  the  North,  and  of  frequent  occurrence 
during  the  winter  months. 

No  year  has  any  name  or  lumibcr,  fixing  a  sequence 
or  point  of  reference,  but  each  band  will  designate  a 
year  by  its  most  prominent  occurrence  ;  as  a  fight 
with  hostiles,  death  of  a  chief,  prevalence  of  disease, 
abundance  or  scarcity  of  food,  or  failing  anything 
marvellous  or  striking,  by  the  name  of  the  stream  on 
which  was  located  the  winter  camp.  But  these  are 
mere  remembrances,  and  excellent  as  is  the  savage 
memory,  they,  after  a  few  years  fade  into  a  jumble  of 
disconnected  facts  without  sequence  or  usefulness. 

In  1874,  a  brother  officer  presented  me  with  what 
f)urported  to  be  a  fac-simile  of  a  calendar  of  Sioux, 
together  with  its  interpretation.  The  original  was 
painted  in  colors,  in  Indian  hieroglyphics  on  an  elk* 


.;'3 


■it 


3( 


■■5' 
'■"■f 


^.^>:^':^,lrititx^!ii-  -i  ysi:.'^aL.>!vu  ft^V'i 


"Vft,  '^y<^ '  *  "  "t*  ^•Tf^*'^'^,"y^:'y.'^-z  ?- ''"  V'' " 


■   ^.-v-'u  W!'  ^--^.t  fn 


400 


A   SIOUX   CALENDAR. 


■ii-! 


■■  I'. 


•,  \ 


skin,  which  was  religiously  preserved  by  the  chief  of 
the  band,  no  addition  being  made  without  the  grave 
consideration  and  sanction  of  the  Council.  Com- 
mencing with  1800,  it  gave  the  sign,  or  hieroglyph, 
designating  the  tribal  name  of  each  year  in  regular 
succession  to  1870. 

This  was  a  wonderful  step  in  advance  of  anything 
I  had  before  known  of  Indian  chronology,  and  I  stud- 
ied it  with  cunsideralle  assiduity. 

In  1877, 1  heard  that  a  pamphlet  had  been  issued 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Smithsonian,  containing  a 
Sioux  calendar,  and  interpretations.  I  procured  a 
copy  for  comparison  with  ni}''  calendar.  To  my  annoy- 
ance, I  found  it  the  same  thing.  Some  time  after  I 
learned  that  an  acting  assistant  surgeon,  U.  S.  A., 
had  been  permitted  by  a  chief,  as  a  personal  favor,  to 
make  a  copy  of  a  calendar  in  his  possession.  I  wrote 
to  the  doctor,  and  he  was  kind  enough  to  send  me  a 
copy.  This  time,  I  must  admit,  I  was  thoroughly 
disgusted  to  find  only  a  second  copy  of  my  old  chart. 
Several  times  since,  I  have  heard  of  discoveries  in  this 
direction,  but  when  I  have  run  them  to  earth,  it  is  only 
to  find  the  same  old  thing. 

I  have,  therefore,  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is 
unique,  that  there  is  no  other  such  calendar  among 
Indians.  It  is  possibly  just  as  well  that  this  is  so,  for 
I  have  never  yet  met  an  Indian  of  any  tribe  (and  I 
have  shown  it  to  numbers)  who  could  interpret  any 
single  one  of  the  hieroglyphs;  who  had  ever  seen  or 
heard  of  anything  like  it,  or  who  could  form  any  clear 
conception  of  its  meaning  and  object,  even  when  care- 
fully explained  to  him. 

To  the  few  people  who  made  this  calendar  and  held 
it  in  charge,  these  pictures  possibly  have  a  definite 


^' 


wiS» 


/I 


A  llEMAUKABLE   DOCUMENT. 


401 


< 


J^ 


meaning;  to  all  others,  they  are  merely  senseless 
marks. 

I  obtained  this  calendar  for  pnblieation,  as  a  speci- 
men ol*  what  I  then  thought  a  jwssibly  not  unconnnon 
custom  of  the  Indians.  I  now  present  it  as  a  curiosity, 
the  solitary  effort  to  form  a  calendar  ever  made  by  the 
Plains  Indians. 

Connnencing  in  the  centre,  the  hieroglyphics  are 
presented  in  order,  from  right  to  h  .l  in  a  spiral. 
The  Indian  year  commencing  with  the  first  snow, 
this  chart  purpoj'ts  to  designate  the  yeiu's  from  the 
first  snow  that  fell  in  the  autunm  or  winter  of  1799 
to  1870. 

The  periods  not  corresponding  to  our  years,  I  des- 
ignate them  by  numbers. 

1.  Tliirly  Sioux  killed  hy  Crow  Indians. 

2.  Sioux  Jilllic'ted  with  sniiill-jjox. 

3     Tho  Sioux  stole  a  lot  of  horses  that  iiad  shoes  on,  —  the  first  they 
had  over  seen. 

•i.    The  Sioux  stole  some  "  woolly  horses  "  from  the  Crows. 

5.  Sioux  liad  a  {jrand  "calumet  dance,"  and  then  went  to  war. 

6.  Ei<jht  Sioux  killed  by  Crows. 

7.  A  Sioux  killed  an  Arickaree  as  the  latter  was  in  the  act  of  shoot- 
ing an  eagle. 

8.  Sioux  chief,  "Red  Coat,"  killed. 

9.  The  Sioux  who  killetl  the  Arickaree  (7)  was  himself  killed  by  the 
Arickarees. 

10.  Sioux  chief,  "  Little  Beaver,"  set  lire  to  a  trading-store,  and  was 
killed. 

11.  The  "Black  Stone"  band  of  Sioux  made  medicine  with  a  white 
buffalo  cow. 

12.  Sioux  fought  a  battle  with  the  "  Gros  Ventres,"  and  killed  a  great 
many. 

13.  Sioux  first  captured  wild  liorses. 

14.  Sioux  alllicteil  with  whooping-cough;  many  died. 

15.  An  Arickaree  Indian  killed  in  his  lodge  by  a  Sioux. 

16.  Sans-arcs  built  tlieir  first  earth  lodge  for  tlieir  chief,  "Crow 
Feather." 

17.  Buffalo  very  plenty. 

18.  A  French  Canadian  built  a  trading-store  of  dry  timber. 


,'U 


'CI 


■■t 


1 


■  ,  i 

■  3 


:-Wl«*«WIS-fV"^*-jl-,,,, 


r'^- 


■"i;  "W^(f'Nf,v*?i 


■•■V^r, 


»'ii(»-»'*T^.'  '^i  ■n-^i\^.i\ 


'^rSJATjdJ-!' 


!■:■;■%/.  t'^';2 


ira^*^? 


402 


SIOUX  CALENDAR. 


19. 
20. 
21. 
22. 
23. 


Sioux  afflicted  with  measles ;  many  died. 
Another  trading-sioro  built  by  another  French  Canadian. 
Sioux,  "Two  Arrows,"  I'eceives  a  war-dress  for  his  bravery. 
Tlio  comet  appeared. 

Another  trading-store  builu  by  an  American  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Little  Missouri. 

24.  White  solders  make  their  first  appearance  in  tlie  country. 

25.  ''Swan,"  chief  of  "Two  Kettle"  tribe  of  Sioux,   had  all  his 
horses  killed. 

26.  Iligii  water  in  the  Missouri  River.    Many  Sioux  drowned,  many 
horses  lost. 

5"     A  Sioux  died  of  dropsy, 

Sioux  "  Dead  Arm  "  stabbed  by  a  Mandan. 

A  white  man  living  with  the  Sioux  built  a  dirt  lodge. 

Sioux  "Bad  Spike"  killed  another  Indian. 

Sioux  fight  a  battle  with  Crows,  and  kill  twenty-three. 

One  white  killed  another. 

S'oux  chief,  "  Lone  Horn,"  had  his  leg  broken. 

The  stars  fell. 

Sioux  chief,  "Medicine  Hide"  killed. 

Sioux,  "  Lame  Deer,"  shot  a  Crow  Indian.     Drew  the  arrow 
fi'om  tlie  wound,  and  shot  hiiv  ,vilh  it  again. 

37.     "  Two  Kettle's  "  father,  a  Sioux  chief,  died. 

Sioux  killed  one  hundred  elk  on  one  hunt. 

A  dirt  lodge  was  built  for  "Iron  Forn,"  a  Sioux. 

Sioux  killed  an  entire  village  of  Stake  Indians. 

Sioux  and  Clieyennes  make  peace. 

Sioux,  "  Feather  in  the  Ear,"  stole  thirty  spotted  ponies. 

Sioux  chiof,  "One  Feather,"  raised  a  large  war  party  to  fight 
with  the  Crows. 
44.    The  "Sans  Arcs"  make  medicine  to  bring  the  bufl'ulo. 

The  Minne-conjous  built  a  pine  fort. 

Great  abundance  of  bufialo  meat. 

Sioux,  "Broken  Log,''^  died. 

Sioux,  "  Two  Man,"  was  killed. 

Sioux,  "Hump  Back,"  was  killed. 

Crow  Indians  stole  eight  hundred  horses  from  the  Brule  Sioux. 

Sioux  killed  a  buflUlo  cow,  and  found  an  old  woman  in  her  belly. 

Sioux  and  Crows  make  peace. 

"  Nez  Percc's"  visit  "  Lone  Horn"  at  night. 

Spanish  blankets  (ir«t  brouglit  into  the  Sioux  country. 

Sioux,  "  Brave  Bear,"  was  killed. 

General  ILirney  made  peace  with  the  Sioux. 

Sioux,  "Four  Horns,"  is  made  medicine  chief. 

Sioux  killed  a  Crow  woman. 


:/. 
28. 
29. 
30. 
31. 
32. 
33. 
34. 
35 
36. 


38. 
39. 
40. 
41. 
42. 
43. 


45. 
46. 
47. 
48. 
49. 
60. 
61. 
52. 
53. 
64. 
65. 
66. 
67. 
68. 


'-<  i 


I  I       i' 


-5>:«>  i.i,„'i=. 


■.':»,.■' V.   :    vv-f  ' 


,,^-^.^„    -J,  .,,,..,  ,^,.v-; 


AN   DfDIAN   CURIOSITY. 


403 


V 


9|k     Hi' 


lUj,"^ 


/< 


'1 


A  CHRONOLOGICAL  AND  HISTORICAL  CHART  OF  A  BAND 

OF  SIOUX, 

Showing,  dy  Symhols,  the  PnixciPAL  Event  of  Each  Yeab 

FRO.-M   1790  TO    1870  INCLUSIVE. 


''■'^'•■-^'•'^^Sf, 


"i'ft" 


"."t-*>-^J,    ~--'hje^<*  < 


404 

59. 
60. 
61. 
62. 
63. 
64. 
65. 
66. 
67. 
68. 
69. 
70. 
71. 


BELIEF   EST   TFE   CALENDAR. 

"  Lone  Horn  ''  made  ni.eflicine  to  hx'xxv^  the  buffalo. 

Sioux  chief,  "Big  Crow,"  killed  by  Crow.s. 

Sioux,  *•  Elk,"  made  .a  speech  while  walking. 

Buffalo  very  plenty 

8ioux.  "Red  Feather,"  was  killed. 

Eight  Sioux  were  killed. 

Siou.x  killed  four  Crows. 

3Iany  horses  died  from  starvation. 

Sioux  chief,  "Swan,"  died. 

Many  flags  were  given  the  Sioux. 

Texas  cattle  first  brought  into  the  Sioux  country. 

An  eclipse  of  the  sun. 

Sioux  had  a  figiit  with  Crows,  and  1-illed  twentv-nine. 


A  careful  examination  of  these  hieroglyphs,  even  in 
the  light  of  theii'  interjiretation,  will  demonstrate  that 
it  is  scarcely  a  matter  of  surprise  that  they  are  un- 
derstood by  no  Indians  except  those  who  invented 
them.  I  went  over  the  whole  series  carefully  with 
"  Stone,"  who,  though  a  Cheyenne,  lived  for  many 
years  near  the  Sioux.  He  recollects  mo.stof  the  prin- 
cipal events,  though  he  did  not  understand,  nor  could 
he  interpret,  the  symbols. 

I  asked  him  if  an  old  woman  had  been  found  inside 
a  bufliilo  cow.  He  assured  me  that  it  was  true.  He 
had  heard  of  it  at  the  time.  The  fact  was  authenti- 
cated by  statements  of  the  finders,  sworn  to  in  their 
most  solemn  and  binding  manner.  It  was  believed 
by  all  the  Sioux  and  Cheyennes,  and  he  believed  it. 

Professor  Brown  gives  a  ti'adition  of  the  Kootanie 
(Pacific  coast)  Indians,  which  is  soincAvhat  similar, 
but  in  this  case  involving  a  consequence  most  serious 
to  the  Indians,  the  origin  of  the  Americans. 

"Once  on  a  time  the  Indians  and  the  Pcsioux 
(French  Canadian  voyageurs)  lived  together  in  such 
happiness  that  the  Great  Spirit  above  envied  the 
happy  condition  of  the  Indian.  So  he  came  to  the 
earth,  and  as  he  was  riding  on  the  prairies  on  the 


^ 


•f»^ 


L -■...>.■:•  Vt.ji 


^. 


wm 


ORIGESr   OP   THE   WHITE   RACE. 


405 


J. 


other  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  he  killed  a  buf- 
falo, and  out  of  the  buffalo  crawled  a  lank,  lean  figure, 
called  a  *  Boston  man'  (American),  and  from  that 
day,  to  this,  their  troubles  commenced,  and  there  has 
never  been  peace  for  the  Indian,  and  there  never  will 
be  until  they  agam  go  where  their  fathers  are." 


^  Ir  ■  ■ 


1 


■i  • 


»! 


•r-t^rwi-^ff*'"' 


^^■''■flW-f"ryiTii7a«<«-y.' :-;-:;•;;; 


>    r 


:     J^- 
t^-. 


Cf^ 


■1, 


CHAPTER  XX:s;i. 


IXDIxiX  ART  AKD  ARTISTS  —  SIGXIFICATION  OF  THEIR 
PICTURES   AXD   IXSCRIPTIOXS. 

ProCTess  in  the  Arts  —  Semi-Civilized  Indians  —  Obtaining  an  Ediica- 
tion  —  Their  Knowledge  of  the  Industrial  and  Mechanic  Arts  —  The 
Pueblos — Spinning,  Weaving  and  Tailoring  —  Tlie  Xavahoes  —  How 
leir  Dwellings  are  Constructed  —  Beauty  and  Excellence  of  their 
Blankets  —  The  Apaches  —  Canoes  of  Bark  —  Adepts  at  Carving  — 
The  Making  and  Ornamentation  of  Pipes  —  Bead-work,  Paint, 
Feathers,  and  Fringes  —  Indian  Artists  —  Tlioir  Delight  at  Pictures  — 
Portraying  their  Remarkable  Exploits — jNIy  Exploring  Expedition  to 
the  Black  Hills  —  What  I  Found  under  a  Cairn  of  Stones  —  Indian 
Hieroglyphics  —  Inscriptions  on  Rocks  and  Trees  —  Indian  Signatures 
—  IIow  AVarriors  Keep  a  Record  of  their  Lives  —  Indian  Pictures. 


^^J^^HERE  is  probably  no  single  thing  in 
which  the  tribes  of  United  States  In- 
dians vary  so  widely  as  in  their  pro- 
gress in  the  arts. 

Althongh  the  Chcrokees,  Chieka- 
saws,  Choctaws,  and  other  tribes  or 
remntints,  now  occupying  the  Indian 
Territory,  must  be  classed  as  in  advance 
of  all  other  Indians  in  their  progress,  it  is 
simply  because  they  can  no  longer  properly  be 
classed  as  Indians,  except  by  race.  For  nearly  fifty 
years  they  have  been  peculiarly  the  care  of  the 
government.  They  received  large  subsidies  for  the 
lands  in  the  states  formerly  occupied  by  them,  which, 
being  invested  for  them  in  United  States  securities, 
have  yielded  sufficient  income  to  place  these  tribes 

406 


Vi.:-, 


%■ 


'■<"'-y  '••'^':^i 


:i;:r>'f'' '  '"■Trijv'v'''' '  '^''^*'J 


^M. 


'uiW'l 


.,...T-..- 


m 


SEMI-CIVILIZED   INDIANS. 


407 


above  actual  want.  Except  during  the  rebellion 
(and  then  from  no  fault  of  theirs)  there  has  been  in 
all  those  years  no  outbreak  or  outrage  by  these  Indians, 
proving  that  it  is  easy  to  manage  Indians  who  are 
properly  fed.  Surrounded  on  almost  all  sides  by 
whites,  they  have,  in  most  things,  become  assimilated 
to  whites.  Schools  have  been  established  among  them, 
and  many  of  the  more  wealthy  parents  have  sent  their 
children  of  both  sexes  to  the  colleges  and  seminaries 
of  the  states,  where  they  have  received  excellent 
education.  In  education,  general  intelligence  and 
mode  of  life,  the  mass  of  these  Indians  are  qinte 
equal  to  the  lower  class  of  population  of  the  south, 
either  black  or  white. 

Their  civilization  is  not  a  natural  growth,  but  is  the 
result  of  their  circumstances  and  surroundings.  They 
are  fully  fitted  to  be,  and  should  be  citizens  of  the 
United  States ;  that  they  are  not  so,  is  simply  because 
it  is  to  the  pecuniary  interest  of  some  persons  of  in- 
fluence to  keep  them  as  they  are.  Of  their  progress 
in  the  arts  it  is  not  necessary  here  to  speak  further 
than  to  say  that  it  is  nearly  or  quite  on  a  par  with  that 
of  the  whites  who  surround  them. 

Of  all  those  tribes  whose  progress  may  be  said  to 
be  indigenous,  the  Pueblos,  inheriting  the  semi-civili- 
zation of  their  reputed  ancestors,  the  Aztecs,  are  far 
in  advance.  They  have  some  knowledge  of  the  rudi- 
ments of  almost  all  the  industrial  and  mechanic  arts; 
building  for  themselves  comfortable  houses,  con- 
structing cisterns,  tanks  and  dams  for  the  storage 
of  the  spring  rainfall  of  water;  digging  long  irrigat- 
ing ditches;  ploughing  and  hoeing  the  lands;  plant- 
ing trees ;  raising  crops  of  grain,  vegetables  and  fruits ; 

breeding  horses,  sheep  and  goats;  making  pottery; 

26 


i«i;-!llii. 


'y.'i--'.*  „w.::.-)    .x 


HipllW»iMllH.>i     - 


■;--4*!'^-r^''r»  -  '--, 


408 


LINE   OF  DEMARCATION^. 


,|s. 


l-  !■ 


I',  ■, 

^^ 
Iff'' 


spinning,  weaving  and  tailoring,  and  providing  them- 
selves with  ample  means  for  a  comfortable  and  happy 
existence.  They  have  even  some  crude  knowledge  of 
working  iron,  though,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  dis- 
cover, they  have  no  idea  where  the  metal  comes  from. 

The  labor  is  fairly  divided  among  the  sexes,  the 
men  caring  for  the  stock,  ploughing  and  planting  the 
fields,  gathering  the  crops,  etc.,  the  women,  though 
also  working  in  the  fields  during  busy  seasons,  vary- 
ing their  labors  with  household  duties,  spinning,  weav- 
ing, making  clothing,  blankets,  baskets,  and  cooking 
for  the  family.  Every  able-bodied  man  or  woman 
must  work;  and  all  seem  to  perform  their  parts  care- 
fully, diligently  and  cheerfully. 

In  the  absence  of  any  other  well  defined  line  of 
demarcation  between  semi-civilized  and  savage  races, 
it  would  seem  judicious  to  fix  this  line  between  those 
tribes  where  thr  men  labor,  and  those  where  they  do 
not.  To  have  ovei'come  the  repugnance  to  work, 
natural  to  all  savage  people,  is  a  long  stride  in 
advance.  Accepting  this  as  the  line,  the  Pueblos 
are  the  only  naturally  semi-civilized  race  of  United 
States  Indians.* 

Next  to  these,  but  still  savage,  come  the  Navahoes, 
who,  though  not  descendants  either  of  Aztecs  or 
Toltecs,  yet  occupied  an  immense  section  of  country 
adjoining  the  latter,  and  thus  derived  some  benefit 
from  their  civilization.     They  live   in  rude  huts  of 

*  Some  of  the  Alaska  tribes  are  semi-civilized  by  this  rule,  the  men 
performing  most  of  the  heavy  work.  They  are  also  well  advanced  in 
the  arts.  Their  houses  are  built  of  enormous  slabs  hewed  from  logs, 
their  canoes  are  models  of  lightness  and  elegance,  and  they  carve  beauti- 
fully in  wood,  bone  and  horn.  They  are,  however,  so  entirely  difl'erent 
from  any  of  the  Indian  tribes  with  which  I  am  acquainted,  that  I  leave 
the  task  of  their  description  to  other  hands. 


«nM* 


%.: 


■-^ii(f\ii?r5f<?;'^".'v«?*ji'ir:;rvj;" 


rf*'.':' 


i'i^.^::-;i\j 


DOMESTIC   ARTS. 


409 


stone  or  logs,  cemented  with  a  stiff  clay,  commonly 
called  adobe  mud,  from  the  fact  that  excellent  sun- 
dried  bricks,  called  "adobes"  are  made  of  it.  Thev 
jiossess  a  few  horses,  large  herds  of  sheep  and  goats; 
and  their  women  till  small  patches  of  ground,  raising 
corn,  vegetables  and  melons.  They  spin  and  weave, 
and  are  justly  celebrated  for  the  beauty  and  excellence 
of  their  blankets.  The  men  care  for  the  flocks  and 
herds,  but  perform  no  manual  labor  Avhatever. 

It  is  difficult  to  decide  which  of  the  savage  tribes 
comes  next  to  the  N^avahoes  in  its  progress  in  the 
arts,  and  this  for  the  reason  that  in  each  of  the  more 
advanced,  art  seems  to  take  a  direction  special  to  that 
tribe.  Thus,  the  Apaches,  learning  from  their  neigh- 
bors, the  Xavahoes,  make  beautiful  baskets,  jars,  and 
pots,  of  grass,  so  closely  woven  as  to  hold  water,  and 
which  also  serve  as  cooking  utensils;  a  thick  coat  of 
mud  ))eing  smeared  over  the  outside  to  prevent  burn- 
ing. But  their  inventive  or  ingenious  faculty  stops 
short  at  this.  Their  houses  or  ranchcrias  are  mere 
l^iles  of  branches  and  brush,  scarcely  more  comfortable 
than  the  lair  of  a  wild  animal. 

The  Chippewas  and  other  tribes  of  northern  Indians 
build  cabins  of  logs  or  poles  and  earth,  which,  covered 
with  mats,  skins  or  bark,  are  sufficient  protection  even 
in  that  rigorous  climate.  They  also  make  excellent 
canoes  of  bark,  and  are  great  adepts  at  carving; 
their  efforts  in  this  direction  being,  however,  confined 
almost  exclusively  to  the  ornamentation  of  pipes, 
totems,  and  war  implements. 

The  Plains  tribes  proper  have  made  little  progress 
in  any  art  not  absolutely  necessary  to  their  mode  of 
life,  being  dependent  in  their  natural  state  almost 
entirely  on  the  buffalo,  the  limit  of  their  knowledge 


si'*?fi^5»:W'» 


410 


DECORATIVE   ARTS. 


■t 
1 


'f.'- 


'I 


■fe. 


of  the  mechanic  and  industrial  arts  was  the  prepara- 
tion and  preservation  of  meat  and  skins,  as  exi)hiined 
in  a  previous  chapter,  and  the  fabrication  of  the  arms 
and  equipmei  ts  necessary  for  war  or  the  chase. 

Carving  may  be  regarded  as  the  oldest  of  the  orna- 
mental arts,  for  to  it  we  owe  Avhat  very  slight  knowl- 
edge we  have  of  pre-historic  man.  It  is  universal 
among  North  American  Indians,  the  different  tribes, 
however,  var3ang  in  the  degree  of  skill  to  which  they 
have  attained,  from  the  rude  eiforts  made  by  the 
Digger  to  carve  his  totem  on  the  stick  with  which  he 
digs  his  roots  and  kills  his  snakes  and  lizards,  to  the 
grotesque  but  well-executed  designs  of  the  tribes  of 
Alaska.  The  PUiins  tribes  have  made  little  progress 
in  this  art,  confining  it  almost  exclusi\'ely  to  pipe 
manufacture.  Like  all  other  Indians  they  are  ex- 
tremely fond  of  ornament,  but  they  ex[)ress  this 
fondness   in  bead-work,  paint,  feathers  and  fringes. 

At  a  certain  stage  of  its  upward  progress,  every 
primitive  people  has  sought  to  embalm  its  ideas, 
either  by  carvings  or  paintings.  These  representa- 
tions are  first  purely  idiomatic,  or  expressive  of  ideas, 
gradually  become  phonetic,  or  expressive  of  sounds, 
and  thus  lay  the  foundation  for  the  alphabet. 

The  tribes  of  United  States  Indians  have  of  them- 
selves reached  only  the  first  stage,  theii'  representa- 
tion expressing  ideas  only.*     Even  in  this  they  are 

*  Much  has  been  writt(!n  of  tlie  wonderful  genius  of  the  Cherokee 
Indian,  Sequoia  or  Guess,  who,  alone  of  all  the  American  Aborigines, 
has  made  an  alphabet  suited  to  his  language.  While  not  disposed  to 
detract  from  the  merits  of  this  remarkable  achievement,  I  must  never- 
theless call  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  conception  was  not  original. 

For  some  y(^•lrs  Guess  liad  had  the  sidvantage  of  the  instruction  of  an 
excellent  and  learned  missionary.  Dr.  Rutrick,  and  in  his  alphabet,  uses 
^very  one  of  our  letters  except  X,  though  not  in  the  samo  onler,  ov  with 
tile  same  sound. 


«4sii» 


'  ''i":'3'-'f' 


«**S* 


PICTOllIAL   HISTOKY. 


411 


60  far  from  having  any  general  and  fixed  system  in 
such  representation,  that,  beyond  the  most  common 
symbols,  the  hieroglyphics  of  one  Indian  cannot  be 
read  or  understood  by  another,  even  of  the  same 
tribe. 

I  have  already  given  a  description  of  the  totem. 
Every  Indian  understands  its  significance,  but,  as  in 
tlie  case  of  the  Sioux  chronological  chart,  the  effort 
of  one  to  express  abstract  ideas  by  such  symbols  is 
so  completely  an  individual  act,  as  to  be  a  "  sealed 
book  "  to  all  others. 

The  Plains  Indian  delights  in  pictures,  and  you 
cannot  i)lease  or  entertain  him  better  than  by  giving 
him  a  "  picture  book  "  to  look  at.  He  also  delights 
in  making  pictures,  especially  of  his  own  remarkable 
exploits  and  achievements,  but  I  have  never  been  able 
to  discover  that  they  use  their  slight  knowledge  of 
drawing  to  convey  any  but  the  most  commonplace 
information. 

In  lJ^7.j,  the  Sioux  Indians  had,  by  force  of  arms 
and  diplomacy,  been  separated  into  two  classes,  hos- 
tile and  reservation  Indians;  the  former  in  the  field 
defiant;  the  latter  supposed  to  be  living  quietly  and 
peaceably  at  the  expense  of  the  United  States.  I 
was  on  an  exploring  expedition  to  the  Black  Hills; 
One  day  I  crossed  a  fresh  trail  of  Indians.  On  a  hill 
a  little  distance  off"  was  planted  a  slight  pole,  ten  or 
twelve  feet  high,  to  the  top  of  which  was  fastened  a 
streamer  of  white  cotton  cloth.  Under  a  small  cairn 
of  stones  at  the  foot  of  the  pole  was  discovered  a 
])iece  of  skin  carefully  rolled  and  tied  with  a  thong. 
On  opening  it  I  found  a  bundle  of  thirty-seven  sticks 
tied  together;  a  piece  of  cotton  cloth  on  which  were 
painted  in  colors  some  ten  or  twelve  hieroglyphics;  a 


'm 


K.L.VJ.,, 


1; '^■;iv~  ■; ' '  ;/  "Vi.^x'?* 


'■'.■(■;  X  ^' 


412 


eYMBOLISM. 


^V.'. 


small  pouch  containing  tobacco,  ancl  another  of  corn. 
My  interpreter,  an  old  Mexican  who  had  married  and 
lived  almost  all  his  life  among  the  Sioux,  exi)laiued. 
The  party  which  made  the  trail  consisted  of  thirty- 
seven  warriors;  the  hieroglyphics  wei-c  the  totems 
or  signatures  of  the  chiefs  and  most  prominent  men 
(all  reservation  Indians),  and  the  totem  of  the  l)and  of 
hostile  Sioux  to  which  they  were  going;  the  tobacco 
indicated  that  they  were  going  to  "  smoke,"  t-^iat  is, 
join  their  fortunes  with  the  hostiles;  corn  indicated 
that  they  had,  or  expected  to  have  plenty  to  eat,  (an 
unusual  thing  with  reservation  Indians)  ;  the  white 
streamer  invited  their  friends  to  follow  them;  while 
the  i)ole  marked  the  jilace  of  deposit  of  their  com- 
munication. 

If,  as  is  generally  believed,  these  Indians  could 
have  expressed  all  these  ideas  by  painting,  there 
would  have  been  no  need  for  so  many  other  symbols. 

x\.  vast  deal  of  research  aiul  wisdom  have  been 
devoted  to  the  elucidation  of  Indian  hieroglyphics. 
Inscriptions  on  rocks  and  trees  have  been  j)h()to- 
graphed,  or  carefully  and  minutely  copied,  and  sent 
to  various  learned  bodies  f)r  interpretation.  The 
lucubrations  of  these  sages,  are,  as  a  rule,  exactly  on 
a  par  with  those  of  the  Pickwick  club,  over  the  stone 
sent  by  its  learned  founder  from  Cobham. 

In  common  with  all  "the  rest  of  mankind,"  the 
Indian  dearly  loves  to  see  his  name  in  a  conspicuous 
place.  'Wherever,  near  a  camping-place  of  favorite 
resort,  is  found  a  large  stone,  or  mass  of  rock,  favor- 
ably situated,  it  will,  almost  invariably,  be  covered 
with  drawings.  In  nearly  every  case,  these  are 
merely  the  signatures,  the  almost  universal  expres- 
sion of  vanity,  of  the  warriors;  or  are  designs  and 


^^^,. 


^■iT^-i;• 


'V'J 


'0111. 

aiul 

llC'tl. 

ity- 
01  lis 
lien 
lof 
ceo 


T  "■  m 


;  .'i: 


,.■ ,  '/■ 


■  ■■■.■  ,■',".;>.,■-'»      '..'/:     M, 


f,  .!■••■■  ,^^^■■i^^^m^. 


'"■'.{■ 


'  ««••    *    '■'  ■•■■       ■■.:■•,..:  I'-,',  .,,,>,■•■■, 


'•.  f  ■'. 


t'^^^l 


fe' 


f: 


r^ 


■.::-\ 
■■■>. 


■% 


'*■:.  M 


*• 


,  ■•■■  i"'   ' 


(•     ;•;■  T:     •:        ,.  ,,.   ■' 


:-     ;. '■•'&•,■■' 


:'=■;.>#' 


■3^'    _^     ^,..„,     .#»• 


.'•"««- 


jt*- 


•i'-;.jL!jii* 


# 


r^'*-  . 


'■   J'"  ■,, 

\-4 

>?i: 

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■•^«t- 

■!«  :    ',■ 

7^tt^'^-f;  ,i5;v^  >,.*;•  ;■•!,,*• 


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■:'.-i?^<^^i*it. 

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,   .,■  :i'H''. '  . 

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OEPROOUCEC  IN  tXAC^  'AC-S'MIlE  FROM  ^Hl   OR  GIN'.l  jOAWINGS  EXPRESSLY  FO"  THiS  <VOR»- 

A      l>      W<»W1'MI  N**TON    a.   r.li        I'l'HI.lriHrKH      HjkliTW  OH11     fOWN 


-lr,,-,.i^-l,',  .(■    io^yrtr,' 


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112 


r-VMl'M.IS  .1, 


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j('i]Mli.  li'    I'm;  ..'iiii;-,    \\l\\)    i'  t'     !i.    -f:\-:     -oin     i  1  '.i  ■'•',,  ^  I 
tiiill    1 1>  ■)'   (i'lii,  ('•■  f\)'<M'i(    1    .  I  I   iiN'iT    jiKiiT'     i'     ciit      (.,1^ 

inirsi!,,!   tain.;    \\iiii   i    -v;\:ilii>)i    (niMiiii.- ;  ;   li'^   \  'i'l. 

triMllL.T    "ir,il.;\    t'f/i;'     {l!,r.(''    lo    f   .!l   >V.     il':.:;    svlnu. 


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;  ;  I  .  .    I   i  '  I ;    '  ■    ■  ■•• 


Tr         M'l  III'-      ','.'.'  1;".       I "  I,  I 
hi'  ll'u  Jli'M  >  (.)!'   [h:  ■'.'  >-;  '.: 

a  jiar  n\  iili  t  !ii'.-.<'  i^'  lii  ■  ' ' 

!i;    C'linmo:'.    w  ith     'i! 
Ind'a;)    ]r:ii'!_\    !i'\  i'     !■■  •  • 
{'im.   •        \\  ]l"i<  \rr     !;'■;.! 
'••■••or. .  is  idUi).:!  ;*  lav^;.'    •■, 
iiM  V    -inrid  u,   1 1    vsjIL    ,i: 
^vilil    <ir;p.s  in;j;s.       Ir,     n, 
iiiirt.'!'    \hr  si/u  ,1  !in'.-..   < 

^;ii'ii   >r  viMii'. V,  .if  ■  lit'  ■•. 


i  ;i! 

,)  .i;  '  '.:;■.. 

!:;!'  f  ■;     ,  •.•.-. 

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•     ■'•■■l  1  •         i     \  'AiW  .■;    h:    I  ■■  ■\i:\.\  ^liii    •  , 
,    1    I  .'■     -  liC     1 11  '.        ]'.,'.(      'i'  i  ■;■•,    p'l  /I  ■  ■- 

i_\      '.  •!  i|  IM      '        ."  'i    '      ■  .'III 

•   ■  r,'iir..'l  .ll  H  ;:l.         '1  ;• 
I    •  •       •••    !   •■'. i''.  ,  I   '     <  ■  '\\    I .;! 
'■  •  ■  .   '•'  li   '.  <)'.'.!.    i  il'    .-.  .  '.'i  .1.: 

'    •  '.■   '  .'Hi  ".■     1."  ■■'  "' 


lU  .  .      .1. 


I' 


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'    ''  4  ,    III.     i-o\  I  '  .'a 

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;!     !:P!\l':*sn'    cvf;,'":-- 


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AT! 


.'r?^'^);.'itrf*-  iifLw^.i^  -..  \x\ 


Fac-similes  or-    Inpian   Drawings 


.HE":"!- SNl.        vi;     :  f.A':  H 


OtPROOUCED  IN  tXAC""   riC-S'MILE  FROM  thL  OP  CINAl  DPAWINGS   EXPRESSLY  f OR  THiS  .VORk 


A      l>      WOWTHIV»*TON     t    Ct)         I'l  til .  >HH  r  K  M      HAlllUltHtt     »  "  OWN 


USE   OF   PICTL'RES   AXD   SYMBOLS. 


413 


•ifW 


sketches  made  by  the  young  men  and  boys  in  wan- 
tonness, and  with  no  more  liidden  significance  than 
those  which  the  white  schoolboy  in  his  moments  of 
laziness  or  mischief  draws  on  his  slate,  or  on  the 
newly  whitewashed  fence  of  his  neighbor. 

AVhile  this  is  literally  true  of  most  of  the  isolated 
figures  drawn  on  rocks  and  trees  by  diff^erent  hands, 
generally  believed  to  be,  and  spoken  of  by  learned 
writers  as  symbolic,  it  must  yet  be  understood  that 
the  Plains  Indians,  more  than  most  others,  use  pic- 
tures to  express  action  and  situation.  There  is  a 
broad  line  of  demarcation  between  symbolism  and 
pictography.  The  Plains  Indian  uses  the  former 
but  little,  and  then  only  as  an  adjunct  to  the  latter, 
enabling  him  to  show  in  his  picture  something  which 
is  impossible  to  his  limited  knowledge  of  drawing  and 
perspective.  Almost  every  warrior  makes  a  picture 
of  each  prominent  event  of  his  life,  and  many  of  them 
keep  a  book  in  which  their  acts  are  thus  recorded. 
But  his  pictures  are  not  symbolic.  The  fight  or 
other  act  is  depicted  as  nearly  as  possible  as  the 
Indian  wishes  it  to  be  seen;  himself  the  prominent 
figure  in  the  foregi'ound,  dealing  death,  or  otherwise 
performing  the  act.  Their  pictures  of  fights  in 
which  liumbers  are  engaged,  are  simply  the  repre- 
sentation of  individuals  who  were  prominent  either 
for  courage  or  from  being  killed  or  wounded.  In 
such  pictures  symbolism  is  used  to  make  up  the 
deficiencies  of  the  draughtsman ;  thus  a  great  many 
marks  of  horses'  feet  indicate  that  great  numbers 
were  engaged:  many  arrows  or  bullets  represented 
in  the  air  show  that  the  fight  was  hotly  contested. 

There  is  nothing  in  which  white  men  differ  more 
than  in   drawing.     One   draws   exquisitely,  another 


I'. 


s  -'l- 


"'<'';^'' 


f^r*M^(*^j'^ 


'M'?>'-3tl^-  ''>*"*--^F' 


?»'"*« 


.f;if^T.>„r''C--7'V? 


'-''  -^irz  w:^  i'iMirh}'^^  wr 


£»■>■;■  .'-'w^': 


.(;i.. 


414 


TALENT  FOR  PAINTING. 


with  equal  opportunities,  and  equally  as  well  edu- 
cated in  other  respects,  cannot  draw  at  all.  Not  so 
with  Indians;  all  draw,  and  though  entirely  witliout 
knowledge  of  perspective,  all  draw  quite  as  well  as 
the  average  of  whites.  If  one  wants  Indian  pictures, 
there  is  no  need  to  hunt  a  special  artist.  All  he  has 
to  do  is  to  give  some  pajDcr  and  a  few  colored  pencils 
to  any  middle-aged  warrior.  I  have  many  such  pic- 
tures, drawn  by  men  of  diflferent  tribes,  all  so  essen- 
tially alike  in  character  and  execution,  that  they 
might  have  been  drawn  by  the  same  hand. 


m^M 


«-VP 


^.^•A>1- 


m^ 


•V^ 


:i-'X- 


+ 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


t^ 


CNDIAif   AVEAPOXS  —  IIOW    THEY    ARE    MADE — SKILL 
AND   EXPERTXESS   IN   THEIR   USE. 

Bows  and  Aitows  —  How  Indian  Boys  Learn  to  Use  them  —  Forays  for 
Scalps  and  Plunder  —  The  First  Gnn  —  An  Incident  of  My  first  Fight 
with  Indians —  Why  They  Still  Cling  to  the  Bow —  How  the  Bow  is 
Made  —  Its  Strength  and  Elasticity  —  Arrows  and  IIow  they 
are  Made  —  Their  Penetrating  Power  —  War  Arrows  —  Indian 
^Marksman  —  Beaten  by  a  White  Man  —  Tlie  War  Club  —  The 
Tomahawk  —  The  Scalping  Knife  —  "  Keen  as  a  Razor  " —  The 
Lance  —  A  Formidable  Weapon  —  The  Shield  —  Patience,  Care,  and 
Thought  Bestowed  upon  its  Manufacture  —  How  the  Indians  Obtain 
their  Firearms — A  Party  of  Sioux  Visit  my  Camp  —  A  W^'il-Ai'med 
WaiTior — Fate  of  a  Wealthy  Sportsman. 

'HE  bow  's  the  natural  weapon  of  the 
North  American  Indian.  The  first 
childish  plaything  of  which  he  has 
recollection  is  the  miniatiu'e  bow  and 
)lunted  arrows  placed  in  his  hands 
by  his  proud  father,  when  he  is  scarcely 
four  years  old.  Practising  incessantly, 
he  is,  when  nine  or  ten  years  of  age, 
able  to  bring  in  from  his  daily  rambles 
quite  a  store  of  larks,  doves,  thrushes,  sparrows,  rab- 
bits, gophers,  ground-squirrels,  and  other  "  small 
deer,"  for  which  he  is  greatly  praised,  particularly  by 
his  mother,  to  whose  especial  delectation  they  are 
presently  devoted. 

When   sufficiently   familiar   and    expert   with   his 
weapon  as  to  warrant  the  experiment,  he  is  furnished 

415 


:A;-.i',-;.':-4^i;>>,f.li(,;.';' 


■s, 


*..^'*-^5*^V 


VH^-T^i^r^-..-  »^I    Sf^*-;.!-*,  r,'C-;i    ■■ 


j>v 


I 


^;4& 


ii- 


f. 


416 


BOWS  AND   AEROWS. 


with  arrows  with  iron  points,  an  epoch  in  his  Hfe 
ranking  with  tlie  clay  of  possession  by  the  white  boy 
of  his  first  gun.  He  now  quits  the  companionsliip  of 
the  smaller  boys,  and  in  company  with  lads  armed  as 
himself,  makes  wide  excursions  after  larger  game, 
sometimes  being  gone  from  his  lodge  for  several  days. 

In  his  earlier  forays  for  scalps  and  plunder,  he  is 
armed  with  this  weapon,  for  unless  his  father  be  ex- 
ceptionally rich  and  generous,  he  can  never  hope  to 
own  a  gun  until  he  can  procure  the  means  to  pay  for 
it,  or  is  so  fortunate  as  co  kill  a  man  who  has  one. 

As  a  rule,  therefore,  the  Indian  warrior  does  not 
arrive  at  firearms  before  about  the  average  age  of 
twenty-five;  and  though  he  spmetimes  becomes  very 
expert  with  the  new  weapon,  he  is  never  as  thor- 
oughly at  home  with  it  as  with  his  first  love,  the  bow. 

When  I  first  came  among  Indians,  only  a  vei-y  few 
possessed  firearms,  and  those  were  of  the  most  infe- 
rior kind.  The  bow  was  the  universal  weapon. 
Even  those  who  possessed  giuis  carried  them  more,  I 
think,  for  the  noise  they  made  (what  we  would  call 
moral  effect),  or  because  it  was  ihe  thing,"  than 
from  any  confidence  in  them;  for  tliough  the  gun  was 
ostentatiously  carried  across  the  saddle,  the  bow  and 
quiver  of  arrows  was  always  slung  on  the  back. 

In  my  first  fight  with  Indians  I  was  greatly  aston- 
ished to  notice  that  those  who  ran  away  invariably 
took  with  them  their  bows  and  utows,  but  abandoned 
their  guns.  My  guide  subsequently  informed  me  that 
the  Indians  had  little  confidence  in  guns  in  a  close 
fight.  A  whole  quiver  of  arrows  could  be  expended 
in  the  time  it  took  to  load  and  fire  the  gun  once. 

Almost  all  of  the  older  warriors  of  tribes  most 
closely  in  contact  with  whites  have  now  guns  and 


1 


,^,  lik-  ■■ 


fij'»-v;'wfj*ft;*;!*fy;;^^!r'C'*.r'/''-"  Jj™"' 


vj. 


MANUFACTURE    OF    WEAPONS. 


4ir 


pistols,  many  of  them  the  very  best  breech-loading 
arms  in  the  market.  This  has  very  greatly  dimin- 
ished the  use  of  the  bow;  but  ammunition  may  be 
scarce,  or  the  gun  itself  get  out  of  order,  and  as  no 
Indians  have  the  proper  tools,  and  very  few  the  me- 
chanical knowledge  for  its  repair,  the  owner  must 
take  to  his  bow  until  he  can  get  some  white  man  to 
mend  the  gun  for  him.  The  young  and  the  poor  use 
the  bow  exclusively;  those  who  possess  firearms 
must  use  the  bow  occasionally;  so  that  however  rich 
and  well-armed  a  band  may  be,  the  bow  is  yet  an 
indispensable  possession  of  every  male  Indian. 

A  good  bow  takes  a  long  time  and  much  care  and 
labor  in  its  construction.  Those  most  highly  prized 
among  the  Indians  of  central  North  America  are  in- 
geniously fabricated  by  carefully  fitting  together  pieces 
of  elk-horn,  the  whole  glued  together,  and  tightly 
wrapped  with  strips  of  the  smaller  intestines  of  deer, 
or  slender  threads  of  sinew,  used  wet,  and  which, 
when  dry,  tighten  and  unite  all  the  parts  into  one 
com})act  and  homogeneous  whole,  said  to  be  stronger, 
tougher,  more  elastic,  and  more  durable  than  a  bow 
of  any  other  materials.  The  great  difficulty  of  its 
construction,  the  lact  that  it  is  liable  to  become  use- 
less in  wet,  or  even  in  damp  weather,  and  the  more 
genei-al  use  of  firearms,  have  rendered  obsolete  this 
particular  make  of  the  weapon,  and  it  can  noAV 
scarcely  be  found,  except  in  museums,  or  kept  as 
heirlooms,  handed  down  from  father  to  son  in  some 
principal  family. 

The  bow  in  common  use  among  Indians  is  made 
of  wood.  The  best  is  Osage  Orange  (the  "bois 
d'arc "  of  the  French  trappers,  now  commonl}^ 
called  "bow  dark"   by  white   frontiersmen).      This 


'\ 


',1'  .%»    BJIjilL:  V,.  !.i,i.  .■, 


''y~.'!e' 


WWi- 


m 


■lu-'^'K'i^,*' 


f,;'*^'»'-iV'  '^'" 


'i:.:^ 


'  f  •■i"'^'  **"'■ 


i^ 


,', ; 


^K 


■/ 


rr- 


418 


POWER   OF   ARROWS. 


wood  is  indigenous  to  a  comparatively  limited  area 
of  country,  and  long  joui'neys  arc  sometimes  made 
to  obtain  it,  the  venturous  traveller  bi'inging  back 
whole  pony-loads  of  the  valuable  commodity,  and 
making  a  "good  thing"  by  trading  off  his  surplus. 
When  this  wood  cannot  be  obtained,  they  use  ash, 
elm,  iron-wood,  cedar,  indeed  almost  any  wood;  for 
that  most  bi'ittle,  when  cut  into  layei-s,  fitted  and 
glued  together,  and  wound  with  sinew,  will  make  a 
bow  of  requisite  strength,  though  lacking  in  elasticity. 
I  have  been  told  that  the  traders  sometimes  sell  to 
the  Indians  straight,  well-grained  pieces  of  oak,  hick- 
ory, and  even  yew,  but  I  have  never  seen  an  Indian 
bow  of  those  woods. 

Bows  are  short-distance  weapons,  for  though  a 
skilful  Indian  may  throw  an  arrow  nearly  two  hun- 
dred yards,  it  seems,  after  the  first  few  yards,  to  lose 
its  penetrative  power  and  destructive  force.  Many 
stories  are  told  of  the  ability  of  an  Indian  to  throw 
an  arrow  through  a  buffalo,  and  one  author  claims  to 
have  himself  sent  an  arrow  completely  through  an 
inch  board.  I  can  only  say,  that  with  considerable 
knowledge  of  many  tribes,  I  have  never  seen  any 
such  feats.  I  have  frequently  seen  an  arrow  im- 
bedded in  the  body  of  the  bufliilo  to  the  feather,  but 
this  only  happens  when  no  bone  is  touched.  In  my 
experience,  the  strongest  Indian,  with  the  best  bow, 
cannot,  even  at  a  few  feet,  drive  an  arrow  through  a 
rib  of  the  buffalo  so  as  to  inflict  an  immediately  fatal 
wound. 

The  Comanches  place  the  blade  of  the  hunting- 
arrow  in  the  same  plane  with  the  notch  for  the  string, 
so  that  it  may  more  surely  pass  between  the  ribs  of 
the  animal,  which  are  up  and'  down;  for  the  same 


. .itJa'-'--'w^-t.'  /.■.^. 


;^^ 


ir'r,-^^  ■.-.*,-»7 


ry-.- *'■'■'•" 


•  n^ -:V;' V Y  •;■':''  ■■'S'f-^f ' tk^'i"? •' 


;.)fv- 


TARGET   AIICHERY. 


419 


reason,  the  blade  of  the  war-arrow  is  perpendicular 
to  the  notch,  the  ribs  of  the  human  enemy  being  hor- 
izontal. 

The  arrows  require  in  the  aggregate  much  more 
labou'  than  the  bow.  Any  hard,  tough  wood  is  used. 
It  is  scraped  to  proper  size  and  taper,  and  must  be 
perfectly  round.  The  head  is  either  of  stone  or 
iron,  —  of  late  years,  exclusively  of  iron,  stone  of  the 
necessary  hardness  being  difficult  to*  work. 

The  shape  of  the  iron  arrow-head  indicates  the  use 
to  which  it  is  expected  to  be  put.  Hunting-arrows 
have  long,  tapering  blades,  the  rear  shoulders  sloping 
backward.  The  blade  is  firmly  fastened  to  the  shaft, 
and  can  easily  be  withdrawn  from  the  wound.  The 
war-arrow  has  a  short,  sharp  blade,  like  a  lancet;  the 
rear  shoulders  slope  forward,  forming  barbs;  their 
attachment  to  the  shaft  is  very  slight,  as  it  is  intended 
that  the  head  shall  remain  in  the  wound,  and  kill 
eventually,  if  not  immediately. 

However  dangerous  he  may  be  to  human  and  ani- 
mal life  with  these  weapons,  the  Indian  is  not  a  good 
shot  with  them  at  a  target,  especially  if  it  be  some- 
what removed.  Even  at  a  little  distance,  he  seems  to 
lose  confidence  in  himself.  Put  a  five-cent  piece  in  a 
split  stick,  at  fifty  or  sixty  yards,  and  by  giving  a 
dexterous  twist  he  will  make  the  arrow  fly  sideways, 
and  knock  down  the  money  almost  every  time;  but 
put  an  inch-square  piece  of  paper  on  a  board  or  tree, 
at  the  same  distance,  and  he  will  hardly  hit  it  once  in 
a  day's  practice. 

A  party  of  Comanches  came  into  a  military  fort 
where  I  was  stationed,  and  after  knocking  down 
sticks  holding  money,  and  performing  various  feats 
with  their  bows,  challenged  any  white  man  to  shoot 


« 


% 


V-' 


OT»««W»n»(  •HV'wirn'R's-  -3msst--'V  {-J^asvvlflWWfe:-  ■ 


■^>l•rl•,■%■i.'^:"\v:•^ 


'.^V"''^" 


■  ->^t  /i't^iO. 


420 


TOMAHAWKS. 


y  ■ 


k:; 


'si- 


1  >..j. 


against  them.  The  challenge  was  accepted  by  a 
young  officer,  who,  though  he  had  had  no  experience 
with  bows  and  arrows  since  boyhood,  easily  beat 
them  out  of  all  they  cared  to  lose,  and  sent  them  off 
thoroughly  disgusted. 

The  wondei'ful  thing  about  the  Indian  bow  prac- 
tice is  the  remarkable  rapidity  and  force  with  which 
he  can  send  his  ari'ows.  He  will  grasp  five  to  ten 
arrows  in  his  left.hand,  and  discharge  them  so  ra})idly 
that  the  last  will  be  on  its  flight  before  the  first  has 
touched  the  ground,  and  with  such  force  that  each 
would  mortally  wound  a  man  at  twenty  or  thirty 
yards.  The  blow  of  the  string  in  this  practice  is  so 
very  severe  on  the  left  forearm,  that  when  expecting 
to  go  into  a  fight  this  arm  is  always  protected  by  a 
shield  or  gauntlet  of  stiff  deerskin. 

However  apparently  alike,  the  bows  and  arrows  of 
each  tribe  differ  so  materially  from  those  of  other 
tribes,  that  an  Indian,  and  even  some  frontiersmen, 
will,  from  a  mere  glance  at  either,  say  to  what  tribe  it 
belongs. 

I  know  of  no  tribe  of  Indians  that  now  uses  the 
war-club,  so  common  and  so  elaborately  ornamented 
in  the  days  of  Catlin.  The  tomahawk  is  still  in  use, 
but  reduced  from  its  former  high  estate  as  execu- 
tioner of  the  direful  will  of  its  owner,  to  a  mere 
ornament,  carried  as  a  lady  carries  her  fan,  or,  still 
worse,  devoted  to  the  base  purpose  of  chopping  wood. 
Though  there  are  yet  many  very  elaborately  orna- 
mented tomahawks,  they  are  regarded  rather  as  an 
insignia  of  rank,  to  be  carried  on  ceremonial  occa- 
sions, but  are  scarcely  thought  of  as  weapons.  Even 
as  pipes,  they  are  beginning  to  be  voted  a  bore  by  the 
average  Indian. 


•V 


'■/-^ 


:'V;i-;:^-'' 


■  f'lt" 


j-lr,- 


fb» 


KNIVES    AND    LANCES. 


421 


Knives  are  invaluable  to  all,  not  an  Indian  of  any 
age  or  sex,  except  very  small  children,  being  with- 
out one.  The  scalping-knife  is  generally  an  ordinary 
butcher's  knife,  of  English  or  iVmerican  manufacture, 
the  handle  gaudily  ornamented  with  brass  round- 
headed  trunk-tacks.  In  ordinary  times  of  peace,  it 
is  a  "  servant  of  all  work,"  but  when  scalps  are  ex- 
pected, it  is  ground  to  one  edge,  and  kept  keen  as  a 
razor.  It  is  carried  in  the  belt,  in  a  sheath,  which, 
like  all  other  Indian  trappings,  is  plain  or  elaborately 
ornamented,  according  to  the  wealth  or  taste  of  the 
owner.  The  women's  knives,  used  constantly  for 
skinning  game,  are  all  ground  to  one  edge,  and  are 
almost  useless  for  other  purposes. 

Next  to  the  bow,  the  great  offensive  weapon  for 
all  the  horseback  or  Plains  Indians,  was,  a  fcAV  years 
ago,  the  lance.  It  consists  of  a  shaft  of  from  eight 
to  twelve  feet  long,  terminated  by  a  head  of  stone  or 
metal.  Differing  from  the  "knights  of  old,"  the 
Indians  wanted  no  tough,  stiff,  ash  poles,  but  selected 
light  and  rather  pliable  wands.  The  Comanches  and 
Apaches  not  unfrequently  use  the  long,  dry  stalks  of 
the  soap-plant  {phalanglum  j^omcwidramtm) . 

The  favorite  point  was  a  long,  straight  sword 
blade,  which  they  procured  in  great  number  from  the 
Mexicans,  and  I  have  seen  among  them  blades  which, 
in  beauty  and  temper,  were — to  use  the  words  attrib- 
uted to  a  gallant  and  well-known  officer  —  "worthy 
of  old  Toledo  himself" 

Prior  to  the  general  introduction  of  repeating  and 
breech-loading  firearms,  the  lance  was  the  most  for- 
midable weapon  possessed  by  the  Indians,  and  war- 
fare with  it  was  exceedingly  destructive  to  life.  To 
do  injury  at  all,  the  bearer  of  the  lance  must  come  in 


'  v 


f|»WWI|>«Bll»  .i:.,-1l»!,TO' 


'V', 


'>;i 


*. 


,1^^ 


I'. 


^^ 


d22 


kit 

•.-■<" 


mi 


VALUE   OF   SHIELD. 


actual  contact  with  the  enemy,  and  a  battle  of  any- 
thing like  equal  numbers  was  a  series  of  personal 
combats,  in  which  one  or  the  other  ''  bit  the  dust." 

Almost  every  Indian,  even  at  the  present  day,  pos- 
sesses a  shield.  Tt  is  his  only  "  weapon  of  defence." 
It  is  made  of  the  hide  of  the  neck  of  a  buffalo  or  ox. 
This  hide,  almost  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in  thickness,  is 
deprived  of  hair,  soaked,  rubbed,  pounded,  cut  into 
shape,  and  then  dried.  It  is  almost  as  impenetrable 
as  iron,  and  when  doubled,  as  is  frequently  the  case, 
is  almost  a  perfect  protection  against  the  very  best 
rifle,  ^o  rifle-ball  can  penetrate  uiiiecs  it  strikes 
squarely,  and  the  shield  being  attached  to  the  left 
arm  by  loops  which  allow  it  play,  the  impinging  bul- 
let is  almost  sure  to  be  sent  off"  in  another  direction. 

As  the  eagle's-feather  head-dress  is  the  acme  of  all 
personal  adornment,  so  the  shield  is  the  head  and 
front,  the  topmost  summit  of  warlike  paraphernalia. 
On  it  he  bestows  infinite  patience,  care,  and  thought. 
Kot  only  must  it  be  perfect  in  shape,  in  fit,  in  make, 
but  also  in  its  "  medicine."  He  thinks  over  it,  he 
works  over  it,  he  pray^:  over  it;  to  its  care  and  pro- 
tection he  commends  his  life;  to  its  adornment  he 
elaborates  thoupht,  and  devotes  his  time  and  means; 
to  it  he  appends  his  "  medicine  bag "  and  the  scalps 
of  his  enemies;  on  its  front  is  painted  his  totem;  it 
occupies  a  conspicuous  but  safe  place  in  his  lodge, 
and  is  hung  out  every  fair  day  in  front  of  his  door; 
it  is  his  shield,  his  protector,  his  escutcheon,  his  med- 
icine, almost  his  God. 

Every  male  Indian  who  can  buy,  beg,  borrow,  or 
steal  them,  has  now  firearms  of  some  kind.  They 
are  connoisseurs  in  these  articles,  and  have  the  very 
best  that  their  means  or  opportunities  permit.    Every 


^m<(^-:'^^^m--<!..^'M^^ 


§h 


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3 


«■••!,  ^*i 


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^ 


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■'If     .  '-ft. 


'•■.  ■  -^'.lyf  few.  :■'■.'■ 


.''I"  •■'if' 


*'"''SiS/ 


*, 


i       1 


/  !•,  ?. *  %,'j'    fin 


Jl'^ 


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:;/'     '''i/jv 


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;;:v!'l«'!'""ji('f  ■, 


"i,  .  --.,1'  '  .v>  <  .■".  ;:^\*''';;r  J-'  j^/"  '''in  ^ 


■r'-.'!' 


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■  M 


U^tv. 


fen 


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a.      i.'M 
U-      .    I   •   t 

■  i  .■  '  '  '.  . 


t  ■      '■ 

? 

1    ;i '       ;  1 ' 

1'      ' 

■   i"  . 

.(     .! 


I.      '  :       ■      (, 
III  1.  , 


.1       i 


■  ''.^    ■■■        :      '.til'       ill'  ;,'; 

■  ■  :  :    ■     •■    '1     ,;    '       -: :'    .'i    < 
■ '    • ,  ■  I  .  ■  I    >   ■  : . , 


to  i;,  1  ; 

0'     i  ':::     '! 
.. .(  .   ■({)'■■•■ 


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■      1  ••  '      ;  I 


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■  ■■  ;    ■  1 '  ■   '■ '  •■    '  I     !  i !     .  ■■ 
•  ■ui    «;•.'     ■  ,    ■'  :  V    '  '  ■ 


Mi-      1     -■'■(,.,,  ill 

':•'■■■■.       W     U. 


:■■!;.■■; I    -^V  ■     >    ■■■■. 
■    •  V    iir-  •  •    .:• 


T'.'T'i'/-''        "■•'•'" 


'[  AT!- 


Indian   Weapons      War  5h:ell    Tomahawks  Clubs  Bows  Sc 

PHO'Ci.'RAPnrr    AND    paiNTED    FROM   the    OR''jINAL  OBjECTS   EXPRESSL-'  '"O"    Tw,^  //C'C-/ 

A      l>      Wl»H   rill  N(*T   ON     ^((1         ttni.lNHFMr*      MAItI»-<>Ml>     t»iNK 


wm!)fmKi^- 


mmmm 


m 


Pii 


iliir 


iP^BI 


PiPm 


&'' 


■Bsi 


«Asi 


r- 


•*»/ 


ISk> 


GENERAL    USE    OF  FIREARMS. 


423 


man  havinrr  to  procure  his  own  arms  when  and  how 
he  can,  there  is  no  uniformity  of  make  or  calibre,  —  a 
fortunate  circumstance  for  his  enemies,  but  extremely 
annoying-  to  the  Indian.  The  trade  in  arms  is  en- 
tirely illicit.  The  trader  slips  into  the  Indian  coun- 
try, now  here,  now  there,  and  not  knowing  before- 
hand the  calibre  of  the  ammunition  required,  takes 
that  which  is  most  commonly  in  use.  Some  guns  of 
a  band  were  almost  always  out  of  use  on  this  account, 
but  necessity,  that  great  "  mother  of  invention,"  has 
so  stimulated  the  ordinarily  uninventive  brain  of  the 
Indian,  that  if  he  can  only  procure  the  moidds  for  a 
bullet  that  will  fit  his  rifle,  he  manages  the  rest  by  an 
ingenious  method  of  reloading  his  old  shells  peculiar 
to  himself.  He  buys  from  the  trader  a  box  of  the 
smallest  percussion  caps,  and  making  an  orifice  in  the 
centre  of  the  base  of  the  shell,  forces  the  cap  in  until 
it  is  flush.  Powder  and  lead  can  always  be  obtained 
from  the  traders;  or,  in  default  of  these,  cartridges 
of  other  calibre  are  broken  up,  and  the  materials 
used  in  reloading  his  shells.  Indians  say  that  the 
shells  thus  reloaded  are  nearly  as  good  as  the  original 
cartridges,  and  that  the  shells  are  frequently  reloaded 
forty  or  fifty  times. 

Many  of  the  Indians  possess  revolving  pistols  of 
the  very  best  kind,  and  have  much  less  trouble  on 
account  of  the  ammunition,  the  calibre  being  more 
uniform. 

The  gun  is  generally  carried  across  the  saddle,  in 
front  of  the  rider.  It  is  enveloped  in  a  case  of  buck- 
skin, s(nnetimes  elaboiately  fringed  and  beaded.  The 
pistol  is  carried  in  a  buckskin  holster  attached  to  the 
belt.  This  belt  is  of  hide,  or  preferably  of  leather, 
fastened  in  front  with  a  buckle.     On  the  outside,  a 

27 


■"■WW 


r^'.^j, 


->9\ 


j: 


jiw,.ii|jiiyyipnip^ii!^qn^pp|Pipilip||P|^ 


mmmmm 


'^'i'l  ^s~  'r'  f-<  '■^t; 


424 


A  FORTUIsrATE    HUFFIAN. 


strip  of  buckskin  is  *  'tched  in  loops,  each  of  the 
proper  size  to  curry  one  cartridge.  It  is  the  ordinary 
"  service-belt "  of  the  army,  somewhat  roughly  made. 
To  this  belt  the  Indian  attaches  almost  all  his  "  port- 
able property."  On  the  right  side  is  the  pistol,  on 
the  left  the  knife,  tlic  pouch  for  his  pipe  and  tobacco, 
that  for  bis  t-  -)ls  and  cleaning  materiids,  his  medicine 
bag;  anything  and  everything  finds  its  appropriate 
place  on  the  belt. 

A  small  party  of  Sioux  once  came  into  my  camp, 
returning  from  an  unsuccessful  foiay  against  the 
Pawnees.  They  were  all  well  armed,  but  the  leader 
particularly  attracted  my  attention.  lie  was  a  stal- 
wart, ruiiianly-looking  fellow  of  about  twenty-five, 
handsomely  dressed  in  buckskin.  Across  his  saddle 
he  carried  a  magnificent  bidfalo  gun  of  the  very  best 
patent;  on  each  side  of  his  belt  Avas  a  holster  con- 
taining a  beautiful,  ivor^'-handled  Colt's  revolver,  and 
Bluuijr  across  his  shoulder  was  a  most  excellent  Held- 
glass.  The  rascal  had  been  "  in  luck,"  killed  some 
rich  man  on  a  hunt  for  pleasure,  and  secured  his 
outfit. 


«b« 


I  jL''.,  ULJisS.'^\--jj/ii  A..ii.^'A.^;ici/'Ji'l;.>.a„'_'L^....^..Ju'.i. 


mwmmi, 


[ni!!f!piBWpP|'M!  '   I' TV'"!f 


CIIAPTEll  XXXIII. 


INDIATS^      DEILL  —  SIG^  AL     FTllES     AXD      SMOKES  — 
WONDERFUL    METHODS   OF    COMMUNICATION. 

How  Indiiin  Boys  Loarn  to  Rido  —  Testing  the  Speed  of  Every  Ilorso  — 
Tlu!  Most  Skilful  Riders  in  tiie  World  —Indian  Roys'  Fnn  —  In  for  a 
Good  Time  —  Makinj;  Rets — In  Search  of  Adventure  —  How  Indians 
Drill  —  Sliow  Drills  —  Secret  Signals  —  Sacredness  of  an  Indian  Oath 
—  "I  have  Sworn  "  —  A  Well-guarded  Mystery  —  How  Warriors  are 
Drilled  with  a  Piece  of  Looking-glass  —  Tlie  Rest  Cavalry  in  the 
AVorM  —  Indian  Methods  of  Coninnniication  at  Long  Distances  —  How 
It  is  Done  —  Signal  Smokes  —  Their  Variety  and  AVIiat  they  ]Mean  — 
Night  Signals  —  Signal  Fires  —  Indian  Scouts — ^  Wonderful  System 
of  Telegrajjliing — Marvellous  Feats  of  Horsemanship  —  Practising 
at  Carrying  oil' the  Dead  and  Wounded. 

IIE  elemental^  instruction  of  theyonth- 
lul  Tnclinn  cannot  bo  callctV'driH"  in  tiie 
I  military,  or  indeed  in  any  other  sense 
of  that  teniL  lie  is  not  taught  to  ride, 
but  Ijeing  placed  on  a  horse,  at  the  most 
tender  age,  he  learns  to  I'idc  as  lie  does 
Wi^^*^^^  to  Avalk,  by  instinct  and  constant  ])rac- 
l^^^o^'  tice.  Every  Indian  lides  after  a  fashion 
"^of  his  oun,  not  deiivcd  from  teachers,  but 
coming  natural  to  him  by  constant  practice,  and  his 
observation  of  his  associates  and  elders.  A  father  or 
old  man  may  give  a  youngster  a  few  words  of  advice 
regarding  the  management  of  a  si)eclally  vicious 
horse,  but  as  a  rule  each  liHljnn,  however  young,  is 
6up[)osed  to  be  entirely   capable  oC   miinnglng   any 

425 


ppw 


iPPNipP 


•■5(' VT*'"'' 


426 


BOYISH   FKOLICS. 


horse,  and  is  therefore  not  overburdened  with  amiable 
and  officious  advisers. 

An  Indian  boy  of  twelve  or  fifteen  years  of  age  is 
simply  a  miracle  in  his  capacity  for  sticking  to  a  horse. 
The  older  and  stronger  men  are  of  course  much  more 
dexterous  in  the  performance  of  all  kinds  of  mai'vel- 
lous  feats  of  horsemanship,  but  my  experience  is  that 
the  boy  of  fifteen  is  at  his  perfection,  simply  as  a 
rider. 

At  six,  seven,  or  eight  years  old,  the  boys  begin  to 
be  made  of  use  by  the  fathers,  and  in  time  of  peace, 
when  there  is  no  danger  of  loss,  except  by  straying, 
they  are  sent  to  herd  the  ponies';  and  it  is  not  t.t  all  un- 
usual for  ten  or  fifteen  of  these  littlo  urchins  to  find 
themselves  out  for  the  whole  day,  and  in  sole  charge 
of  possibly  several  hundred  ponies. 

Each  may  start  out  in  the  morning  and  return  in 
the  evening  mounted  on  the  same  staid  old  quadruped, 
but  each  has  with  him  his  ""  riata,"  and  his  bow  and 
arrows,  and  when  all  get  together  they  would  not  be 
human  boys  if  they  did  not  have  a  "good  time." 
Every  devilment  that  boys  in  their  position  could 
practise  they  are  up  to.  The  "  riata  "  gives  thein  the 
means  of  catching  any  horse  at  pleasure,  and  the  speed 
of  every  horse  of  the  entire  herd  is  known  to  these 
little  fellows  better  than  to  their  fathers,  for  every 
horse  is  caught  in  turn,  and  every  day  witnesses  a 
succession  of  horse-races. 

One  day  when  I  had  tired  myself  out  in  a  long 
hunt,  I  sat  down  on  a  bluff  overlooking  a  somewiiat 
extensive  valley.  Half  a  mile  from  me,  up  the  stream, 
I  saw  a  herd  of  about  twenty  Indian  ponies,  which, 
though  in  herd,  appeared  to  be  in  gi*eat  connnotion. 
Watching  them  intently  through  my  glass,  I  found 


-^ 


T 


,-  v-.  t-^  Itl  "  -.u 


=,'.»i.i*v/.,,*t^',''-.5t' 


m-f 


IF 


A   SCHOOL   FOR   RECRUITS. 


427 


that  the  herder,  a  boy  of  ten  or  twelve,  was  sneces- 
sively  "roping"  every  horse.  Catehhig  one  with  his 
lariat,  he  would  mount  him  bareback,  and  take  after 
another,  sometimes  making  three,  ^bur,  or  half  a  dozen 
casts  of  his  lasso  before  roping  his  victim.  Mounting 
this,  he  went  after  another,  and  another.  I  watched 
•him  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  and  when  I  finally 
started  for  my  camp,  he  was  yet  heartily  engaged  in 
his  fun.  The  boy  was  entirely  alone,  and  unaware 
of  any  witness  to  his  performance.  He  was  simply 
amusing  himself  by  this  practice. 

When  the  boys  get  tired  of  horse-racing,  they  take 
to  their  bows  and  practise  at  marks,  either  on  foot 
or  at  speed  on  horseback.  Every  boy  bets,  of  course, 
(he  would  not  be  his  father's  son  if  he  did  not  gam- 
ble), arrows,  knives,  strings,  nails,  pieces  of  glass, 
and  every  boyish  trumpery,  and  as  his  gains  and 
losses  are  known,  and  commented  upon  by  the  family, 
he  soon  becomes  an  adept  not  only  in  his  riding  and 
shooting,  but  in  the  art  of  making  bets. 

A  few  years  of  such  practice  tells,  and  as  I  have 
Dcforc  said,  I  consider  the  Indian  boy,  of  from  twelve 
to  fifteen  years  old,  the  best  rongh  rider  and  natural 
horseman  in  the  world. 

At  about  this  age  he  begins  to  think  himself  a  man, 
and  to  yearn  for  the  position,  fame,  and  honor  of  the 
warrior.  He  is  given  more  liberty,  younger  brothers 
or  sisters  take  his  place  on  herd,  while  he,  with  others 
of  the  same  age  and  aspirations,  wanders  about  the 
country  in  search  of  the  adventure  which  is  to  crown 
his  ambition  by  making  him  a  warrior.  No  military 
man  can  contemplate  such  a  school  for  recruits  without 
admiration,  and  one  can  readily  sympathize  with  the 
enthusiastic  cavalry  officer  who  exclaimed,  "  Give  me 


>it,' 


t'Jt*     -i^i^-d^ 


mr 


"iippifi 


428 


SHOW   DRIL,LS. 


the  hanclling  and  discipline  of  such  recruits  as  the 
Indian  boys,  and  I  can  whip  an  equal  number  of  any 
cavalry  in  the  world." 

Until  he  is  a  warrior  the  Indian  has  never  had  a 
"  drill,"  that  is,  he  has  had  instruction  in  nothing.  All 
he  knows  is  self-taught.  It  is  now  the  province  of  the 
chief  so  to  instruct  all  this  energy  and  capacity  as  to 
render  it  available  for  concentrated  action.  The  actual 
force  of  a  thousand  men  is  exactly  the  same  whether 
the  men  be  disciplined  or  not.  The  cilect  of  discipline 
and  drill  are  simply  to  concentrate;  to  make  the  whole 
mass  a  machine  which  at  the  will  of  one,  may  exert 
this  force  in  a  certain  direction  or  to  a  certain  end.  It 
is  the  actualization  of  the  old  fable  of  the  bundle  of 
sticks. 

The  Indian  understands  this  perfectly,  but  the  pe- 
culiarity of  the  ti'ibal  relation  prevents  any  very 
decided  enforcement  of  what  we  call  discipline,  and 
the  lack  of  knowledge  precludes  the  idea  of  anything 
like  conventional  drill. 

The  chief  must  do  the  best  he  can  with  the  mateiial 
he  has,  taking  advantage  of  its  wonderful  individual 
skill,  knowledge,  and  pliability,  without  trammelling 
it  by  any  attempted  adherence  to  rigid  rules  of  tactics. 
There  is,  thcrefoi-e,  no  fixed  system  of  tactics,  each 
chief  instructing  according  to  his  own  capacity  and 
his  idea  of  the  capabilities  of  his  vudrrlel. 

In  tii^ie  of  peace  there  is  very  little  drill  or  instruc- 
tion of  any  kind  by  the  chiefs  or  leading  men,  though 
sometimes  when  there  are  a  good  many  Indians  to- 
gether, a  chief  may  have  a  "  show-drill,"  or  grand 
parade  of  mounted  men  something  in  the  nature  of  a 
review.  There  is  no  (  ompulsion  in  tho  attendance  of 
warriors.      The   clahns   of  the   stomach  are  always 


» 


-b 


if 


'  <:  J  T  p;"i-  "^ 


■■-'jf    .^,*.-f.  ^.Ti-7r 


«il 


THE   LINE    OF   BATTLE. 


429 


*i^ 


T 


paramount,  and  those  warriors  who  need  moat  for 
their  families  go  to  look  for  it,  e^'en  on  drill  days. 

In  anticipation  of  war,  the  chief  may  call  out  his 
warriors  for  instruction  every  day,  or  at  least  several 
times  each  week. 

There  are  no  ranks,  no  organizations,  no  units  of 
command,  each  sub-chief  being  surrounded  by  his  fol- 
lowers in  any  order  that  they  may  happen  to  fall;  but 
there  are  woi'ds  or  signals  of  command  by  which  the 
same  evolutions  are  repeatedly  performed,  more,  it 
would  appear,  by  the  wonderful  intuition  of  the  indi- 
vidual Indian  than  by  any  instruction  that  could 
possibly  have  been  given  to  him  by  a  lifetime  of 
drill. 

Tactical  manoeuvres  of  Indians  always  suppose  an 
enemy,  and  previous  to  the  drill  the  chief  indicates  to 
his  command  this  supposed  position,  sometimes  on 
open  ground,  at  other  times  in  hills  and  ravines.  The 
chief  now  forms  what  may  be  designated  his  line  of 
battle.  This  line  consists  of  masses  of  Indians,  more 
or  less  detached  each  from  the  other,  each  sub-chief 
being  surrounded  by  his  following,  but  all  together 
forming  a  line  of  masses  faced  towards  the  supposed 
position  of  the  enemy.  To  produce  a  moral  effect  on 
that  enemy,  the  young  and  ardent,  or  those  who 
have  exceptionally  good  horses,  are  tearing  over  the 
ground,  circling,  at  full  speed,  in  front,  rear,  and 
flanks  of  the  masses  to  which  they  belong,  making  a 
great  show  of  force,  and  appearing  to  be  numerically 
at  least  five  times  greater  than  they  really  are. 

At  a  signal,  the  whole  line  will  charge  ^m  masse  and 
without  order  upon  the  supposed  position  of  the  enemy. 
At  a  word  or  signal  it  breaks  or  scatters  like  leaves 
before  the  storm.     Another  word  or  signal,  a  portion 


■■,  (■ 


^mmum 


430 


SYSTEM   OF   SIGNALS. 


wheels,  masses,  and  dashes  on  a  flank,  to  scatter  again 
at  another  signal.  The  plain  is  alive  Avith  flying, 
circling  horsemen,  now  single,  each  lying  flat  on  his 
horse,  or  hanging  to  his  side  to  escape  the  shots  oC  the 
pursning  enemy;  now,  joined  together,  they  rush  npon 
that  enemy  in  a  living  mass  of  a  charging,  yelling 
terror. 

The  commands  of  the  chief  are  sometimes  commu- 
nicated by  the  voice,  but  more  genei'ally,  especially 
when  there  is  any  considerable  force,  by  signals. 
These  are  devised  after  a  system  of  the  Indians'  own 
invention,  said  to  be  a  sort  of  oflshoot  of  the  sign 
language.  This  system  of  signals  is  most  strong  and 
sacred  ^'  medicine,"  the  secret  of  v»'hich  it  would  be 
dishonor  and  destruction  to  divulge.  I  have  else- 
where spoken  of  the  sacredness  to  an  Indian  of  an 
oath,  administered  after  their  forms  and  "  medicines." 
'No  earthly  power  could  force  him  to  disclose  a  secret 
learned  under  such  an  oath;  and  in  answer  to  an  eftort 
at  persuasion,  he  looks  at  you  with  wide-eyed  aston- 
ishment, and  says  simply,  "  I  have  sworn." 

Even  the  whites,  intermari'ied  and  living  with  the 
Indians,  are  not  admitted  to  this  mystery.  I  have 
questioned  many  of  these,  and  of  Plains  hunters,  who, 
however,  could  only  say  that  a  system  of  signalling  is 
in  common  use  among  Indians. 

To  the  Indians  themselves  I  have  used  both  pei*- 
suasion  and  bribes,  always  reaching  the  general 
admission  of  the  use  of  such  a  system,  but  never 
arriving  at  even  the  slightest  hint  on  which  might  be 
founded  a  practical  system.  I  am  inclined  to  believe 
that  eflective  as  it  is  in  action,  the  system  is  a  very 
crude  and  imperfect  one,  giving  only  the  most  general 
directions,  very  much   indeed   such  an   one    as  the 


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SMOKE    SIGNALS. 


431 


^ 


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Bpoi'tsman  uses  in  the  management  of  his  dogs  in  the 
field. 

AVonderfid  as  the  statement  may  appear,  the  signal- 
ling on  a  bright  day,  and  wiien  the  sun  is  in  tlie  proper 
direclion,  is  done  with  a  pieee  of  looking-ghiss  iield 
m  the  hollow  of  the  hand.  The  reflection  of  the  sun's 
rays  thrown  on  the  command,  communicates  the  orders 
of  the  chief.  IIow  this  is  done  is  the  mystery  which 
no  one  will  divulge. 

Once,  standing  on  a  little  knoll  overlooking  the 
valley  of  the  South  Platte,  I  witnessed,  almost  at  my 
feet,  a  drill  of  about  a  hundred  warriors.  Their  com- 
mander, a  Sioux  chief,  sat  on  his  horse  on  a  knoll  a 
little  way  above  me,  and  some  two  hundred  yards 
from  his  command  in  the  plain  below.  For  more  than 
half  an  hour  he  directed  a  drill  which,  for  variety  and 
promptness  of  action,  could  not  be  excelled  (I  doubt 
if  equaled)  by  any  cavalry  in  the  woi'ld.  There  were 
no  ver1)al  commands,  and  all  I  could  see  was  an  occa- 
sional movement  of  the  right  arm.  He  afterwards 
told  me  that  he  had  used  a  looking-glass. 

Every  writer  on  Indians,  either  of  fact  or  fiction, 
has  spoken  of  their  use  of  smoke  for  communicating 
at  long  distances.  These  smokes  arc  made  singly  or 
in  groups,  or  to  ascend  into  the  air  in  different  ways 
to  each  of  which  is  attached  a  conventional  meaning. 
Thus  a  single  smoke  ascending  naturally  means  one 
thing;  two  smokes,  another  thing.  A  small  fire  is 
built  on  which  is  placed  damp  grass,  creating  a  large 
volume  of  smoke.  As  it  begins  to  ascend  a  blanket 
is  held  horizontally  above  it,  and  when  the  space  be- 
neath is  quite  full,  the  blanket  is  slipped  olF  sideways 
and  then  quickly  brought  back  to  its  place.  Smoke 
managed  in  this  way  ascends  in  round  puffs,  miniature 


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432 


TELEGRAPHY. 


clouds,  one  meaning  one  thing,  two  another.  "When 
the  signal  is  complete,  the  fire  is  extinguished. 

With  almost  all  Indians,  a  single  smoke,  ascending 
naturally,  is  a  warning  to  all  Indians  within  range  of 
vision  that  there  are  strangei's  in  the  country;  and 
such  is  tlieir  habitual  caution  that  tliey  make  these 
signals  even  when  in  a  state  of  i)rofound  jK'ace. 
Every  military  command  passing  through  an  Indian 
country,  will  be  preceded  and  flanked  by  these  signal- 
smokes.  To  prevent  its  being  mistaken  for  the 
smoke  of  a  camp-fire,  it  is  made  on  the  side  or  top  of  a 
high  hill,  or  on  the  plain,  or  a  divide  away  from  water. 
At  night,  fires  are  used  as  signals  somewhat  in  the 
same  way,  not,  however,  so  extensively,  or  with  such 
eflcct,  as  smoke. 

Besides  these  signals,  which  are  used  to  convey 
information  to  persons  beyond  the  sight  of  the  maker, 
the  Indians  have  other  means  equally  remarkable  for 
telegraphing  to  persons  a  long  distance  oil',  l)ut  who 
can  be  seen.  Indian  scouts  are  employed  l)y  the 
United  States  government  at  almost  every  post  in 
the  Indian  country.  Their  services  are  invaluable, 
indeed  indispensable  to  success  against  Indians.  On 
the  march,  the  leader  or  interpreter  is  kept  with  the 
commanding  officer  of  the  troops,  while  the  scouts 
are  sent  far  in  advance  or  on  the  flank.  Occasionally 
one  shows  himself,  sometimes  a  mere  speck  on  a  distant 
ridge,  and  the  interpreter  will  say  at  once  what  that 
scout  desires  to  communicate.  I  learned  some  of 
these  signals,  which  are  all  simple  and  entirely  con- 
ventional. For  instance,  a  scout  rides  to  the  top  of  a 
ridge  or  hill,  pulls  up  his  horse,  stands  motionless  for 
two  or  three  minutes,  and  then  proceeds  at  a  walk. 
He  means,  "  All  right,  no  signs  of  enemy  or  danger." 


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WONDERFUL   HORSEMANSHIP. 


433 


t 


Anotlior  will  dash  at  full  speed  to  the  top  of  tlie  hill 
aiul  ride  rapidly  round  and  round  in  a  circle,  lie 
moans,  ""Danger;  get  together  as  quickly  as  possible." 

These  and  similar,  are  ordinary  signals  used  b}'  all 
Plains  Indians.  A  party  going  off  on  a  raid  or  thiev- 
ing expedition,  will  often,  before  starting,  settle  on 
meanings  for  the  signals  dilferent  from  those  in  com- 
mon use.  By  this  means  they  are  able  to  communicate 
without  disclosing  their  true  meaning  to  any  casual 
observer.  The  only  really  wonderful  thing  about  this 
telegrai)liing  is  the  very  great  distance  it  can  be  read 
by  the  Indians.  "While  with  an  excellent  field  glass  I 
could  scarcely  make  out  that  the  distant  speck  was  a 
horseman,  the  Indian  at  my  side  would  tell  me  what 
that  speck  wished  to  communicate. 

Indian  signalling  and  telegraphing  are  simply  modi- 
fications and  extensions  of  the  sign  language.  All 
are  offsprings  of  a  necessity  growing  out  of  the 
number  and  variety  of  the  Indian  languages,  and  the 
constant  wariness  necessary  and  incidental  to  a  life 
of  })eculiar  danger. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  religious  belief  which 
condenms  every  scalped  warrior  to  annihilation,  and  of 
the  heroism  often  displayed  by  the  Indian  in  risking 
his  own  life  to  save  unscalped  the  body  of  his  chief  or 
friend.  This  superstition  is  the  primary  cause  of  a 
drill  peculiar  to  the  Plains  Indians.  It  is  to  stoop 
from  the  horse,  when  at  full  speed,  and  pick  up  objects 
from  the  ground.  At  first  light  objects  are  selected; 
these  are  gradually  exchanged  for  heavier  ones,  until 
(it  is  said,  for  I  have  never  seen  it,)  some  few  individ- 
uals attain  such  wonderful  proficiency  as  to  be  able, 
alone  and  at  full  speed,  to  pick  up  from  the  gi'ound  and 
swing  across  his  horse  the  body  of  the  heaviest  man. 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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DISAPPOINTED   AMBITION". 


'■ 

I* 

I:, 


This,  however,  is  generally  done  by  two  Indians. 
Rushing  neck  and  neck  on  either  side  of  the  prostrate 
form,  each  rider  stoops  at  the  same  instant,  seizes  the 
part  most  convenient,  and  the  combined  strength  and 
address  of  the  two  swing  the  body  in  front  of  one 
of  the  riders,  who  carries  it  awa^  to  a  safe  place. 

In  this  drill  the  warriors  take  turns  in  picking  and 
being  picked  up ;  for  at  any  time  during  a  fight  each 
may  have  to  act  or  be  acted  upon  as  foreshadowed  in 
thv'^  drill.  VVhen  drilling  as  wounded,  the  prostrate 
man  will  assist  the  others  by  extending  arms  and  legs. 
When  drilling  as  dead,  not  only  is  no  help  afforded, 
but  the  acting  dead  man  assumes  by  turns  every  po- 
sition, the  most  unnatural  or  even  impossible  that  a 
really  dead  body  might  be  supposed  to  fall  into.  This 
drill  is  practised  in  good  weather  most  assiduously  on 
all  kinds  of  ground,  until  riders,  ponies,  and  supposed 
dead  and  wounded  are  thoroughly  proficient  in  their 
several  parts. 

To  this  drill  is  owing  the  fact  that  nearly  every 
oflicial  report  of  a  fight  with  Indians  has  a  state- 
ment in  effect  as  follows:  "Indian  loss  unknown; 
several  were  seen  to  fall  from  their  horses."  On  this 
drill  are  bestowed  the  hearty  anathemas  of  every  as- 
piring young  officer,  who,  having  marched,  toiled, 
watched,  and  suffered  for  days  and  nights  on  the  trail, 
and  being  finally  rewarded  by  a  good  blow  at  the 
marauders,  is  obliged  to  return  to  his  post  empty- 
handed,  with  nothing  to  show,  the  Indians  having 
carried  off  all  their  dead  and  wounded. 


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CHAPTER  XXXIY. 

INDIAN    FIGHTING  —  TIIEIK    MODE     OF     WARFARE  — 
THRILLING    ADVENTURES    AND    EXPERIENCES. 

Indian  Courage,  Craft,  Patience  and  Cunning  — The  Effect  of  Surprise 

—  Their  Fights  with  Each  Other  —  Danger  from  a  Wounded  Indian 

—  Tenacity  of  Life  — :My  Command  Ordered  to  Protect  a  Railroad  — 
The  "Talking  Wire  "  — Discovering  the  Position  of  the  Enemy  — 
Indian  Strategy  — The  Battle  of  tlie  Rosebud  under  Gen.  Crook  —  A 
Terrible  Conllict  —  The  "  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  "  —  Personal 
Experiences —"  Jumped  "  by  Indians  — A  Thrilling  Adventure  — 
Surrounded  by  Sixty  Hostile  Sioux  — An  Exciting  Experience  — 
Charge  of  tlio  Yelling  Savages  —  We  are  Again  Surrounded  — A 
Narrow  Escape  — ISIy  Adventure  near  Fort  Dodge  —  Preparations 
for  the  Fight  —  Stowing  away  "Julia" — A  Ludicrous  Experience 

—  Diplomacy  Saves  our  Lives  •  -  A  Disgusted  Indian. 

HE  description  given  of  the  early  life 
of  the  Indian  boy,  of  the  necessities 
imposed  on  their  mode  of  warfare 
by  their  religious  beliefs,  and  of  their 
instructions  and  training  for  "the 
field,"  as  warriors,  foreshadow  closely 
the  peculiar  charaoteristic3  of  their 
Ighting. 
Courage  is  a  quality  common  to  both 
brutes  and  men,  but  there  are  numerous  shades  and 
kinds  of  this  common  quality,  some  only  of  which 
characterize  the  mere  animal,  Avhile  these  and  others 
are  developed  among  men  in  different  degrees,  ac- 
cording to  their  peculiarities  as  peoples.  Estimates 
of  this  quality  in  the  Indian  vary  exceedingly  even 

among  those  whose  capacity  and  position  best  qualify 

435 


-.#•3 


if  ■ 

■Vr 


S(| 


i.Wi>.!: 


'S^:'i^^;'^AffK^^i!0:^rv''-A'''' •'•■■■ 


436 


INDIAN   COURAGE. 


rA 


them  to  judge;  and  the  Indian  is  forced  by  his  his- 
torians to  apjiear  in  turn  in  every  character,  from  the 
ferocious  but  cowardly  beast,  attacking  only  the 
most  helpless,  and  ready  to  run  at  the  first  appear- 
ance of  real  danger,  to  the  deadly  fate,  without  fear 
as  without  mercy,    whose  very  name  is  a  terror. 

An  analysis  of  Indian  courage  will  show  that  in 
this  as  in  other  things,  he  differs  from  other  men  only 
as  might  be  expected  from  his  surroundings.  'No  man 
possesses  more  of  that  quality  of  brute  courage  which 
impels  the  smallest  and  most  insignificant  animal 
to  fight  to  the  death,  when  cornered ;  and  he  possesses 
also  in  an  eminent  degree  the  courage  which  comes 
of  confidence  in  his  own  arms  and  skill,  and  f»*om 
constant  familiarity  with  danger.  No  man  can  more 
gallantly  dash  into  danger  when  his  reward  in  honors, 
scalps,  or  plunder,  appears  sure  and  immediate.  IN^o 
man  can  take  more  chances  when  acting  under  the 
influence  of  superstition,  in  risking  his  life  to  carry 
oflf  unscalped  his  dead  and  wounded  comrades. 

The  Indian  has  no  conception  of  the  moral  virtues, 
and  as  might  naturally  be  expected,  is  without  the 
moral  or  higher  qualities  of  courage.  He  is  es- 
pecially lacking  in  intrepidity,  that  firmness  of  soul 
which  enables  a  man  to  take  his  chances  of  wounds 
and  death  for  the  sake  of  principle,  without  expecta- 
tion or  even  hope  of  reward,  other  than  that  which 
comes  from  a  sense  of  duty  performed. 

As  with  all  other  people,  the  courage  of  the  Indian 
is  in  keeping  with  his  character  and  surroundings. 
The  population  being  small,  the  life  of  each  skilled 
warrior  is  of  serious  importance  to  the  whole  tribe. 
"To  avoid  unnecessary  risks"  and  that  "craft  is 
superior  to   courage"   arc   the    grand   fundamental 


I 


';«  -,'■*'!■ 


A  FAIR  FIGHT. 


437 


V         ^ 


pnnciples    of  Indian    education,  impressed  on  the 
boys  from  their  earliest  years. 

The  Indian  is  patient  and  cunning;  he  relies  on 
these  qualities  for  the  surprise  of  his  enemy.  He  is 
excitable,  nervous,  easily  stampeded,  and,  judging 
others  by  himself,  he  relies  on  the  demoralization 
produced  by  a  surprise  "to  deliver  his  enemy  into 
his  hand,"  without  danger  to  himself.  In  this  mode 
of  warfai'e  he  has  no  sui3erior,  nor  can  he  be  excelled 
in  the  spirit  with  which  he  follows  up  a  first  success- 
ful effort,  nor  in  the  remorseless  vigor  and  determina- 
tion of  his  pursuit  of  a  flying  foe. 

Their  fights  with  each  other  are  almost  invariably 
surprises,  in  which  the  surprised  party,  almost  equally 
invariably  gets  the  worst  of  it,  without  reference  to 
numbers.  Should  two  hostile  bands  of  nearly  equal 
numbers  meet  on  the  Plains,  a  long  contest  is  likely 
to  ensue,  in  which  the  fighting  is  done  at  extreme 
long  range,  and  consists  principally  in  dashing  about 
at  the  full  speed  of  their  ponies,  making  short  feints 
of  charges,  yelling  most  vociferously,  and  once  in  a 
while  firing  a  shot.  Occasionally  a  young  buck, 
anxious  to  signalize  his  bravery,  will  dash,  well 
covered  by  his  position  on  the  side  of  his  horse,  up 
to  within  two  or  three  hundred  yards  of  the  enemy, 
fire  off  his  gun  in  mid  career,  and  circle  back  to  his 
own  party.  A  youngster  from  the  other  side  then 
shows  his  courage  in  the  same  way  and  with  the 
same  result.  This  goes  on  until  one  party  shows 
signs  of  weakness  or  timidity,  which  so  emboldens 
the  other  that  it  charges  in  real  earnest,  and  the 
whipped  band  gets  away  as  best  it  can.  This  is  not 
usual,  however.  Generally  the  affair  is  kept  up 
until  the  ponies  of  both  sides  are  completely  fagged 


v£S 


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i*A 


438 


STAaiPEDED. 


.<» 


out,  when  each  party  draws  off  to  try  to  achieve  by 
superior  craft  and  cunning  what  it  failed  to  do  in 
ojjen  fight. 

I  have  been  told  of  a  desperate  battle  in  which  not 
less  than  one  hundred  Indians  were  engaged  four 
days;  the  warriors  on  each  side  disj^laying  prodigies 
of  valor,  and  in  which  one  njan  was  killed,  by  a 
mere  accident. 

If  one  party  is  greatly  superior  in  numbers  to  the 
other,  it  dashes  in  at  oiice,  relying  on  the  demoraliza- 
tion of  the  weaker  side  to  prevent  its  doing  damage. 
Then  it  is  Indian  against  Indian,  pony  against  pony, 
and  unless  the  ground  be  particularly  unfavoi-able, 
the  beaten  force  breaking  up,  each  man  f(jr  himself, 
will  get  away  with  much  less  loss  than  would  natu- 
rally be  expected. 

The  first  impulse  of  the  Indian,  on  being  surprised 
in  his  camp,  is  that  natural  to  most  animals  under  the 
impulse  of  fear,  to  scui-i-y  away  as  fast  as  his  legs 
will  carry  him.  He  does  not,  however,  forgi't  his 
arms,  nor  lose  his  head  to  such  an  extent  as  to  fail 
to  take  the  shortest  route  to  the  nearet^  and  best 
cover.  "While  under  this  terror,  or  "stampede,"  as 
it  is  called  on  "the  frontier,"  he  is  by  no  means  to  be 
feared,  his  shooting  being  wild  in  the  extreme.  Let 
him  but  come  to  bay  in  his  cover,  or  receive  a 
wound,  and  he  at  once  r'^covers  his  presence  of  mind, 
and  becomes  again  the  really  dangerous  animal. 
When  wounded  he  becomes  especially  dangerous; 
for,  so  long  as  he  is  unhurt,  he  will  always  sacrifice  a 
chance  to  kill  for  a  chance  to  escape.  The  moment 
he  receives  a  disabling  \*ound,  he  becomes  utterly 
reckless,  and  seeming  to  devote  his  whole  remaining 
energies  to  the  one  object  of  revenge,  he  fights  with 


M    M 


I 


ii 


'11 


Olftl.. 


™i|W*?'W:!> 


V  ^^Ff^^^'^-W^^'^r^^-  "l^^J^-'r^T^  K?^ ' 


-v^^*»r?"*^- 


A  WOUNDED  INDIAN. 


439 


M   *» 


the  fierceness  of  the  wolf,  but  with  coolness  of  aim 
and  fixedness  of  purpose  as  long  as  his  eye  can  dis- 
tinguish an  enemy  or  his  finger  pull  a  trigger. 

Many  a  white  man  has  been  sent  to  his  long  home 
from  carelessly  going  up  to  an  Indian  supposed  to  be 
dead.  An  officer  of  high  rank  in  our  service  has 
suflered  for  many  years  from  a  wound  inflicted  under 
such  circumstances.  Stampeded  and  demoralized, 
an  Indian  was  flying  for  his  life  without  thought  of 
using  his  arms.  lie  was  pursued,  shot  and  fell,  the 
horse  of  the  pursuer  literally  jumping^  over  him. 
At  a  short  distance  the  horse  was  stopped,  and 
the  oflScer,  in  the  act  of  turning  about  to  go  back  to 
his  victim,  was  struck  under  the  shoulder-blade  by 
an  arrow  sped  with  the  last  breath  of  the  Indian. 

A  force  of  some  twenty-five  cavalry  surprised  a 
small  party  of  Indians  in  a  thick  chaparral,  through 


which,  however,  there   were   numerous 


glades 


and 


openings.  The  Indians  scattered  at  once,  and  the 
soldiers  scattered  in  pursuit.  After  some  time,  and 
when  the  cessation  of  firing  indicated  that  the  afitiir 
was  over,  the  commander  had  the  recall  sounded. 
Soon  one  and  then  another  came  in,  until  the  whole 
command  w^as  assembled,  when,  to  the  gratification 
of  the  officer,  almost  every  man  claimed  to  have 
killed  an  Indian.  They  went  to  collect  the  bodies. 
On  reaching  the  first,  it  was  found  that  nearly  every 
soldier  claimed  to  have  killed  him.  A  sergeant  dis- 
mounted, and  approached  the  body  only  barely  to 
escape  a  vicious  blow  from  a  knife.  AYlien  finally 
killed,. it  was  discovered  that  the  Indian  had  not  less 
than  twenty  wounds.  One,  probably  the  first,  had 
broken  his  hip,  and  thrown  him  from  his  horse. 
After  that  he  had  shot  at  every  soldier  that  passed 

28 


.1 


'j^'' 


'||f!fPPf.ip#|Piyiii|iiiiui 


•f-^X- 


440 


INDIAN   BARBARITIES. 


f-A 


j: 


near  him,  attracting  attention  and  being  "Ivilled'" 
again  and  again,  only  to  fight  again  when  the  next 
soldier  came  along.  Instead  of  twenty,  the  soldiers 
got  one  Indian. 

The  tenacity  of  life  of  an  Indian,  the  amount  of 
lead  he  will  carry  off,  indicates  a  nervous  system  so 
dull  as  to  class  him  rather  with  brutes  than  with 
men.  The  shock  or  blow  of  a  bullet  will  ordinarily 
paralyze  so  many  nerves  and  muscles  of  a  white  man 
as  to  knock  him  down,  even  though  not  striking  a 
vital  part.  The  Indian  gives  no  heed  to  such 
wounds,  and  to  "  drop  him  in  his  tracks,"  the  bullet 
must  reach  the  brain,  the  heart,  or  the  spine.  I  have 
myself  seen  an  Indian  go  off  with  two  bullets  through 
his  body,  within  an  inch  or  two  of  the  spine,  the  only 
effect  of  which  was  to  cause  him  to  change  his  gait 
from  a  run  to  a  dignified  walk. 

The  fighting  of  Indians  with  each  other  is  like  that 
of  wolves,  cowardice  until  the  enemy  shows  fear,  or  is 
known  to  be  weak,  and  then  the  utmost  ferocity. 
With  their  knowledge  of  the  country,  splendid  horse- 
manship, physical  endurance,  apparent  indifference  to 
pain  or  privation,  and  wonderful  tenacity  of  life,  it  is 
not  at  all  remarkable  that  the  battles  and  combats 
between  warriors  result  in  very  little  loss  on  either 
side.  But  when,  by  accident  or  superior  craft  and 
cunning,  the  warriors  of  one  ti'ibe  succeed  in  surpris- 
ing a  camp  of  the  other,  of  few  warriors  and  many 
women  and  children,  the  slaughter  is  terrible,  and  the 
barbarities  and  atrocities  worthy  of  fiends.  Numerous 
instances  are  on  record,  l)ut  these  horrors  are  un- 
pleasant either  to  relate  or  read. 

Another  reason  for  the  small  loss  of  life  in  Indian 
contests  with  each  other  is,  that  they  never 


10" 


'i,.k5 


UTES  AND   CHEYENNES. 


441 


the  best  adrantage  except  in  their  own  territories. 
Unless  in  overwhelming  force,  a  marauding  party 
advances  into  the  country  of  its  enemy  with  fear  and 
trembling,  ready  to  fly  to  its  own  ground  on  the 
slightest  appearance  of  danger.  This  peculiarity  is 
the  only  serious  difficulty  in  the  way  of  the  advan- 
tageous employment  by  the  government  of  Indians 
against  Indians.  Unless  under  the  command  of  a 
white  leader  in  whom  they  have  perfect  confidence, 
and  with  "  plenty  of  soldiers "  to  back  them,  these 
auxiliaries  are  not  to  be  relied  on. 

The  Utes  and  Southern  Cheyennes  illustrate  the 
bitter  hatred  and  mortal  fear  that  many  tribes  have 
for  each  other,  and  which  sometimes  lead  to  ludicrous 
results.  The  Utes  are  a  mountain  tribe,  the  Southern 
Cheyennes  a  Plains  tribe.  Any  single  Indian  of 
either  tribe  on  his  own  ground  counts  himself  equal 
to  at  least  three  of  the  other.  Brave  as  they 
undoubtedly  are,  the  Utes  go  upon  the  Plains  with 
fear  and  trembling,  while  the  Cheyennes  will  scarcely 
venture  at  all  into  any  Ute  country  so  broken  as  to 
prevent  their  operating  to  advantage  on  horseback. 
Though  always  at  war  with  each  other,  it  is  rare  that 
anybody  is  hurt,  each  being  too  wary  to  venture  far 
into  the  territory  of  the  other. 

A  mixed  band  of  some  fifteen  hundred  Sioux  and 
Cheyennes  hunting  in  1874,  went  well  up  on  the  head 
waters  of  the  Republican  in  search  of  buffalo.  The 
Utes  found  them  out,  and  a  few  warriors  slipping 
into  their  camp  during  the  night,  stampeded  their 
ponies  at  daylight,  and  in  spite  of  the  hot  pursuit  of 
the  Sioux,  reached  the  mountains  with  over  two 
hundred  head ;  and  though  there  were  in  that  band  near 
four  times  as  many  warriors  as  are  in  the  whole  Ute 


'^i'ig 


:'  iiiLiii.iiiqjijuipiPpiMP^^ 


ip 


^  I 


«^ 


,1  -, 


i^v'» 


442 


CAPTAIN   MURIE. 


tribe;  and  though  they  knew  that  the  thieving  party 
consisted  of  less  than  ten  men,  they  preferred  to  lose 
their  ponies  to  taking  the  risk  of  pursuit. 

The  Utes  are  the  Svvitzers  of  America,  and  tliough 
the  whole  force  of  the  mountain  bands  numbers  but 
little  over  four  hundred  men,  all  the  powerful  Plains 
tribes,  though  holding  them  in  utter  contem})t  on  the 
Plains,  have  absolute  terror  of  them  in  the  UKmntains. 

An  instance  thoroughly  illusti'ative  of  the  Indian 
mode  of  warfare  and  the  etfeet  of  surprise,  came 
unde.  my  personal  observation.  In  18()7,  almost  all 
the  Plains  tribes  were  on  the  war-path,  making  a  last 
despei-ate  effort  to  preserve  to  themselves  the  splendid 
buffalo  country  between  the  Platte  and  the  Arkansas. 
A  train  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  had  been 
thrown  from  the  track,  robbed,  and  burned  by  the 
Cheyennes.  I  was  ordered  to  the  protection  of  the 
railroad  with  a  force  of  four  companies  of  infantry, 
and  a  company,  fifty  strong,  of  Pawnee  Indians 
under  a  white  leader.  Captain  ISIurie.  The  ti'oops 
were  scattered  along  at  the  most  ex])osed  i)oints, 
Captain  Murie  being  stationed  on  the  South  I*latte, 
opposite  Plum  Creek  Station,  on  the  overland  stage 
road.  At  that  time  the  Indians  had  a  superstitious 
dread  of  the  telegi*aph  line,  wliich  they  call  tb(^ 
"talking  wire."  When  passing  under  or  near  it  on 
marauding  expeditions  they  always  cut  and  pull  down 
a  portion  of  it  to  prevent  its  telling  on  them.  This 
superstition  was,  of  course,  a  great  advantage  to  us. 
One  day  I  received  telegi'ains  from  east  and  Avest 
informing  me  that  the  line  was  down  at  Plum  Creek 
stage  station.  I  at  once  telegraphed  to  Cajjtain 
Murie,  ordering  him  to  send  a  pai'ty  of  his  Indians 
across  the  river  and  find  out  what  was  the  matter. 


=  i. 


,v,*? 


•  ^^  .;> 


THE   INDIAN   STllATAGEM. 


443 


r 


■  S 


In  an  hour  I  received  answer  that  there  was  a  large 
force  of  hostile  Indians  in  iiossession  of  the  station. 
Ordoi-ing  him  to  cross  the  river  with  his  whole 
company,  engage  the  enemy,  and  occupy  him  until  I 
could  reach  him,  I  seized  a  locomotive  and  cars,  put 
on  every  man  I  had,  and  went  with  all  the  speed  of 
steam  to  the  scene  of  action.  Arriving  at  Plum 
Creek  railroad  station,  while  the  men  were  being 
formed,  I  went  on  the  top  of  the  house,  where  there 
was  a  lookout,  and  through  my  glass  saw  the  winding- 
up  of  one  of  the  prettiest  and  most  successful  fights 
that  I  have  ever  known  among  Indians. 

As  soon  as  he  had  crossed  the  river,  Captain 
Murie  discovered  the  position  of  the  enemy,  which 
was  a  most  admirable  one.  Plum  Creek  is  a  deep 
bed,  genei'ally  dry,  some  sixty  feet  wide,  with  high, 
almost  perpendicular  banks.  The  stage  road  crossed 
by  a  bridge.  The  Cheyenne  line  was  drawn  up 
about  one  hundred  yards  from  the  eastern  end  of  this 
bi'idge,  directly  facing  it.  The  right  flank,  which 
might  be  turned,  was  protected  by  eight  or  ten  dis- 
mounted Indians  posted  in  the  loop-holed  stable  of 
the  stage  station.  The  Pawnees  wore  the  uniform 
and  used  the  tactics  of  the  United  States  Army,  and 
the  Cheyenne  leader  evidently  believed  that  the 
advancing  force  was  United  States  cavalry.  His  plan 
was  to  permit  them  to  partially  cross  the  bridge,  and 
then  by  a  vigorous  onslaught,  accompanied  by  the 
usual  yells  and  shaking  of  buffalo  robes  to  frighten 
the  restive  and  half-broken  cavalry  horses,  render 
them  unmanageable,  and  thus  throw  the  whole  force 
into  confusion  in  a  most  difficult  and  dangerous 
position. 

Noting  that  the  Indian  pickets  retired  rapidly,  and 


w 

:#:■■' 


I; 


f^iL'^'iAAi'^i  J/  ^^'C, 


m^ 


mwvj','' jpwiijifiuvfviiwppi  Ji 


"■WJ'wpw?!!" 


.iiiiimipi"iiiF.nwjw 


444 


THE   BATTLE. 


#; 


without  hostile  demonstration,  Captain  Murie  sus- 
pected some  trap,  and  on  closer  examination  of  the 
Cheyenne  position  divined  the  stratagem  of  his 
enemy.  Being  greatly  inferior  in  force  (the  Chey- 
ennes  numbering  one  hundred  and  fifty-four  warriors), 
he  resorted  to  a  counter-stratagem.  Dismounting 
his  men  under  cover  of  the  tall  grass  of  the  river 
bottom,  he  caused  them  to  strip  to  Indian  fighting 
costume  (breech-cloth  alone)  ;  then  he  made  each  put 
on  his  uniform  hat,  throw  over  his  shoulders  his 
uniform  overcoat,  buttoning  only  the  top  button. 
Then  mounted  and  formed,  he  moved  slowly  to  the 
attack,  at  the  head  of  what  to  all  appearance  was  a 
company  of  United  States  cavalry,  too  much  encum- 
bered with  clothing  to  make  a  good  fight. 

The  Pawnees  advanced  by  the  flank  left  in  front. 
As  soon  as  the  leading  files  passed  the  bridge  they 
inclined  rapidly  to  the  left,  to  enable  those  in  roar  to 
come  up  promptly  into  line.  When  nearly  half  the 
company  had  passed,  the  Chcyennes  charged  with 
furious  yells.  When  they  had  arrived  within  probably 
fifty  yards,  the  Pawnees  threw  off  hats  and  overcoats, 
and  with  a  true  Indian  yell  dashed  at  their  enemy. 
The  latter,  entirely  surprised  and  utterly  stampeded, 
wheeled  their  horses,  and  fled  in  confusion  and 
dismay.  The  Pawnees  took  sixteen  scalps,  two 
prisoners,  and  a  number  of  animals  without  a  man  or 
horse  being  even  scratched.  So  little  danger  is  there 
to  fear  from  a  "  stampeded  "  Indian. 

In  fighting  with  white  men  a  surprise  is  always 
made  wheh  possible;  when  this  cannot  be  done,  the 
Indians  use  other  tactics  modified  to  suit  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case. 

A  pitched  battle  on  anything  like  equal  terms  as 


W  ' 


I 


'TWTwr'T'op 


P^WB^I^IPPWpi^iPP 


i  S 


■^ 


BEAUTIFUL   FIGHTING. 


445 


regards  numbers  is  almost  impossible,  first  because 
the  army  is  so  small  and  so  widely  scattered  over 
our  vast  territory,  that  it  is  everywhere  greatly 
outnumbeied ;  and  second,  because  the  Indians  not 
being  hampered  with  wagons,  pack-mules,  or  other 
impediments,  can  always  avoid  battle.  They  are 
good  soldiers  and  good  generals,  and  voluntarily 
fight  only  when  overwhelming  numbers  or  some  other 
marked  ad\'antage  leads  them  to  believe  their  success 
to  be  assured. 

When  such  a  battle  is  decided  upon,  and  a  con- 
siderable force  is  engaged,  the  different  bands,  each 
under  its  chief,  are  drawn  up  into  an  array,  —  not  a 
line,  for  Indian  tactics  permit  no  such  restraint  as 
lines  necessitate.  Those  masses  or  groups  are  so 
disposed,  however,  as  to  form  a  general  line  of  battle. 

They  may  chai'ge  simultaneously,  or  individually. 
The  Indians  never  receive  a  charge,  and  rarely  meet 
one.  When  charged,  the  portion  of  the  array 
immediately  in  front  of  the  chai-ging  force  breaks 
and  melts  away  into  individual  Indians,  while  the 
bands  on  either  side  close  in  to  attack  and  harass  the 
flanks  and  rear  of  the  charge.  The  disj^ersed  Indians, 
wheeling  in  circles,  form  on  the  flanks  to  attack  when 
practicable,  or  to  break  again  when  charged.  Should 
the  attacking  force,  carried  away  by  excitement, 
become  scattered  in  pursuit  of  the  flying  foe,  its 
defeat  and  destruction  is  almost  sure.  The  mag- 
nificent riding  of  the  Indian,  and  his  superb  drill,  in 
this  his  favorite  style  of  fighting,  give  him  an 
immense  advantage.  Avoiding  by  quick  turns  of  the 
small  and  active  ponies,  the  direct  onslaught  of  their 
bulky  foe,  and  circling  like  birds  of  prey,  they  collect 
together,  fall  upon  his  flanks  and  rear,  overwhelm 


:..-«; 


i9rfr.<!':'^^''■''''''■''''''-^.'VJ^^'''^'^H*^i,>M')'^»^^sl!W^ 


JiW!«l*a««K*a«  i^i 


TOflpw^?^ 


446 


BATTLE    OF   TllL   UOSEBUD. 


him,  and  disperse  like  magic,  to  repeat  the  process  on 
another. 

The  Battle  of  the  Rosebud  was  a  perfect  illustration 
of  Indian  tactics.  General  Crook's  right  wing  con- 
sisted of  the  allied  Indians  and  two  companies  of 
infantry,  his  left  entii-ely  of  cavalry.  Slowly  advanc- 
ing on  the  enemy's  position,  the  whole  line  was  soon 
hotly  engaged.  The  cavalry  made  a  si^lendid  charge 
on  a  position  strongly  held  by  the  enemy,  to  find 
when  it  arrived  on  the  spot,  that  enemy  apparently 
ready  to  receive  it,  in  another  strong  position  in  the 
rear.  Another  charge,  and  another  with  like  result, 
until  General  Crook  finding  his  wings  completely 
disunited,  the  cavalry  far  in  advaace,  and  in  danger 
of  being  overwhelmed,  sent  an  aide  to  recall  it.  The 
cavalry  had  advanced  almost  without  contest,  but  on 
i^s  attempt  to  fall  back  it  found  itself  completely 
surrounded.  Indians  poured  from  the  hills  ana 
swarmed  from  every  thicket  and  ravine  ;  front,  flank 
and  rear,  they  were  everywhere.  Without  a  halt  or 
break  the  steady  troops  moved  on.  One  moment  of 
fierce  hand-to-hand  conflict,  the  environing  throngs 
were  rent  asunder,  and  the  brave  band  regained  its 
position  in  line  of  battle.  Nothing  but  the  courage 
and  discipline  of  the  command  and  tli  j  galling  fire  of 
the  long-range  rifles  of  the  infantry  saved  it  from 
complete  destruction;  and  by  every  man  Avho  that 
day  felt  death's  grip  upon  his  tln-oat,  the  little 
depression  in  which  that  terrible  conflict  took'  j)lace  is 
known  as  "The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death." 

Indians  thoroughly  understand  themselves  and 
their  white  enemies.  They  have  ample  experience 
of  the  bulldog  courage  of  our  soldiers,  and  carefully 
avoiding  its  direct  effect,  i-ely  for  their  success  on  the 


>,^^'J,/^Mr.,.^..; 


-"div:.-J  -iCu^.'idSiL-^.^'   A-^C'    -.tr;*';--''^.:.- ■";,,■?; .'■  j^N««i,:iU  w*..^Jik,-iL*.yrf.-  .t'"^-i(-niJ!^ 


M 


W 


W 


O 


o 


so 


w 


5 


w 


w 


i 


■.]■■■/■{■  Y>.  ••.-• 


MILES   AND   CRAZY   HORSE. 


449 


:  i 


unruly,  unbroken  horses,  and  poor  horsemanship  of 
our  cavah-y.  They  know  that  repeated  charges 
excite  both  horses  and  men,  and  expect  to  make  their 
effective  blow  during  the  confusion  and  disintegration 
produced  by  that  excitement. 

In  every  plan  of  battle  which  they  have  had  op- 
portunity to  arrange  before  hand,  provision  is  made 
for  this  hoped-for  excitement.  A  huge  trap  had 
been  arranged  for  Crook,  which  he  only  escaped  by 
the  recall  of  his  cavalry. 

So  also  in  Miles'  last  fight  with  "Crazy  Horse," 
Indians  who  were  there  with  "  Crazy  Horse  "  say 
that  that  chief  had  arranged  an  ambuscade  on  a 
grand  scale,  hoping  and  expecting  to  entrap  Miles' 
whole  force.  He  then  sent  a  small  body  of  about 
seventy-five  young  men  Avith  instructions  to  attack 
Miles,  and  after  a  sharp  fight  to  retreat  into  the 
ambuscade.  They  made  so  good  a  fight  that  Miles 
did  not  feel  disposed  to  follow  up  his  victory,  and 
Unis  escaped  what  "  might  have  been  "  the  fate  of 
Custer. 

Persons  who  remember  the  Indian  fights  of  thirty 
years  ago,  and  the  easy  work  which  Harney,  Sumner, 
and  other  old  officers  of  cavalry  had  in  beating 
Indians,  without  regard  to  the  numerical  strength  of 
the  opposing  forces,  are  very  likely  to  draw  infer- 
ences disparaging  to  the  cavalry  of  the  present  day.  ^ 

This  is  unjust.  Our  cavalry  is  as  good  to-day  as 
it  has  ever  been.  The  Indian  has  been  metamorphosed. 
Before  the  Plains  Indians  obtained  firearms,  they 
were  armed  with  bow  and  lance,  and  with  these 
wea])ons  were  truly  formidable,  the  fighting  neces- 
sarily being  almost  hand-to-hand.  But  the  Indian 
likes   this   close  contest   as   little   as   any   one,  and 


•'.**». 


m 


i&y' 


.^■!:^ 


MiM^ 


V  i^";/ 


450 


METAMORPHOSED   INDIANS. 


k'    '  .r. 


K  -..; 


r  .,.<. 


whenever  he  could  procure  a  gun  his  more  dangerous 
arms  were  discarded. 

Thirty  years  ago,  the  rifle  was  little  used  by 
mounted  Indians,  as  it  could  not  be  reloaded  on 
horseback,  but  many  of  them  were  armed  witli  guns 
of  the  most  nondescript  character,  old  Tower  muskets, 
and  smooth-bores  of  every  antique  pattern.  Powder 
and  lead  were  easily  obtained  from  tlie  traders.  The 
former  was  carried  in  a  horn,  the  latter  was  cut  into 
pieces,  which  were  roughly  hammered  into  spherical 
form.  These  bullets  were  purposely  made  so  much 
smaller  than  the  bore  of  the  gun  as  to  run  down 
when  dropped  into  the  muzzle.  When  going  into  a 
fight,  the  Indian  filled  his  mouth  with  bullets.  After 
firing  he  reloaded  in  full  career,  by  turning  up  the 
powder-horn,  pouring  into  his  gun  an  unknown 
quantity  of  powder,  and  then  spitting  a  bullet  into 
the  muzzle.  There  was  very  little  danger  to  be 
apprehended  from  such  weapons,  so  loaded,  and  the 
troops  did  not  hesitate,  even  with  the  sabre  alone,  to 
rush  on  any  odds  of  Indians. 

Then  came  the  i-evolver,  which  multiplied  every 
soldier  by  six,  and  produced  such  an  inspiring  moral 
eficct  on  the  troops,  and  so  entirely  depressing  an 
effect  on  the  Indians,  that  the  fights  became  simply 
chases,  the  soldiers  attacking  with  perfect  surety  of 
success  ten  or  twenty  times  their  numbers. 

After  some  years,  the  Indians  began  to  obtain  and 
use  revolvers,  and  the  fighting  became  more  equal. 

It  remained,  however,  for  the  breech-loading  rifle 
and  metallic  cartridges  to  transform  the  Plains 
Indian  from  an  insignificant,  scarcely  dangerous 
adversary  into  as  magnificent  a  soldier  as  the  world 
can  show.    Already  a  perfect  horseman,  and  accus- 


J,    ■  •  .    »l.;:-..i..j..:..<ij 


«JsA'>v-.:i/ji^:»^j&i;i.  yi.B  ,'i,.^- .'-  jitis,' «.^t;»'>.;ii.i 


wMMAAfiitfiM 


jJiahmrtB* 


\  •  -f    ■"■.>  7='  ^^' 


,  »  '^^y  .y\f  ■y.pv.-:n-_t^y^^  ;_-  - 


«, -■■*^^'!V'^%*'',- 


THE   CAVALRY   SOLDIER. 


451 


tomed  all  his  life  to  the  use  of  arms  on  horseback,  all 
he  needed  was  an  accurate  weapon,  which  could  be 
easily  and  rapidly  loaded  while  at  full  speed. 

The  Indian  \j>  inured  from  his  cradle  in  all  that 
goes  to  make  a  good  soldier.  In  endurance  of 
fatigue,  hunger  and  pain,  he  has  no  superior;  in 
patience  and  resource  in  difficulty  or  in  danger  he 
has  scarcely  an  equal. 

The  United  States  cavalry  soldier  is  enlisted  for 
the  short  time  of  five  years,  and  any  able-bodied  man 
is  accepted,  whether  he  has  ever  mounted  a  horse  or 
not.  His  summers  are  spent  in  campaigning;  his 
winters  in  getting  his  horse  in  condition  for  the  next 
cami)aign.  He  has  scarcely  any  mounted  drill,  for 
in  summer  he  must  save  his  horse  for  active  work, 
and  in  winter  the  horse  is  unfit  for  it.  lie  is  build- 
ing posts,  stables,  cantonments,  driving  a  team  or 
cutting  fire-wood.  He  is  "  a  hewer  of  wood  and  a 
drawer  of  water."  That  he  can  still  contend  with 
the  Indian  on  anything  like  equal  terms  is  his  highest 
commendation,  for  the  Indian  is  his  superior  in  every 
soldierlike  quality,  except  subordination  to  discipline, 
and  indomitable  courage. 

The  Indian  and  the  old  hunter  or  trapper  of  the 
Plains  rarely  came  into  collision.  The  latter  was  too 
cool  and  dangerous  a  customer  to  be  attacked  with- 
out due  and  careful  preparation.  Moreover,  he  was 
too  jioor  to  warrant  the  almost  certain  loss  that  must 
ensue  to  an  attacking  force.  The  Indians  therefore 
contented  themselves  with  watching  his  camp  and 
stealing  his  hard-won  peltries,  his  blankets  and 
kettles,  the  first  time  he  left  them  undefended. 

The  Indian's  great  delight  is  the  attack  of  a  wagon 
train.      There   is   comparatively  little   risk,  and  his 


■^H^< 


:*.*,tiri»V.A'...'<i 


<iC'[A<-:^ '  -  .'n^h^A.^^".!' 


H, 


I 


r 


/n 


it 


f      . 


452 


ATTACK  OF  A  TAGON  TRAIN. 


iiilii 


Tp.": 


reward  in  ponies  and  plunder  most  ami^le.  For  days 
he  will  watch  the  slow-moving  line,  until  he  knows 
exactly  the  number  and  character  of  armed  men  that 
defend  it.  If  their  numbers  or  carelessness  warrant 
a  direct  attack,  he  selects  some  place  where  the 
ground  is  unfavorable  for  corralling  the  wagons. 
Here  he  lies  in  wait,  and  at  the  proper  time  rushes 
out  with  terrifying  yells,  frightening  the  teams, 
which  run  away,  overturning  wagons,  and  throwing 
everything  into  confusion.  Cool  heads  and  steady 
hands  are  required  at  such  moments,  and  if  the 
whites  fail  in  these  their  fate  is  soon  decided. 

If  a  direct  attack  involves  too  nuich  risk,  the  In- 
dian's next  concern  is  to  get  possession  of  the  horses 
and  mules.  He  will  folloAV  the  train  for  days,  or 
even  weeks,  never  seen,  his  presence  never  sus- 
pected. Lulled  into  false  security,  the  white  guar- 
dians become  somewhat  careless;  the  herd  is  per- 
mitted to  wander  too  far  fi'om  camp,  or  with  a  too 
slender  guard.  Like  a  thunderbolt  from  a  clear  sky 
the  Indians  rush  into  the  hei'd  with  whoops  and  yells, 
scare  it  into  stampede,  and  in  a  moment  all  disappear 
together. 

One  unaccustomed  to  Indian  warfare  would  nat- 
urally suppose  that  cover,  rocks,  thickets,  etc.,  would 
be  the  safest  place  for  a  small  party  attacked  by 
an  overwhelming  force.  Unless  the  thicket  is  large, 
no  more  fatal  mistake  can  be  made.  In  stealth,  cun- 
ning and  patience  the  Indian  is  the  white  man's 
superior.  However  closely  the  fugitive  may  hide 
Inmself,  the  Indians  will  find  some  means  of  getting 
at  him  without  exposing  themselves.  His  only  hope 
is  darkness,  when  the  Indian's  superstition  renders 
him  timid,   and   under  its  favorable  cover  he   must 


^ij.K.'i^Si, 


-■}     .;:'■^•/^;■..;^;J^^'..;■  ^y 


A   TERRIBLE   EXPERIENCE. 


453 


*#    4 


put  as  many  miles  as  possible  between  himself  and 
that  party  of  Indians. 

A  party  of  railroad  surveyors  at  work  on  Lodge 
Pole  Creek  were  suddenly  attacked  by  a  large 
force  of  Indians.  One  or  two  were  killed,  and  the 
survivors  took  refuge  in  a  dense  thicket  of  sage  brush, 
three  or  four  feet  high,  and  about  one  hmulred  and 
fifty  yards  in  diameter.  The  thicket,  though  com- 
manded by  a  bluff  about  two  hundred  yards  off, 
was  otherwise  very  favorably  situated,  the  ground 
around  it  being  smooth  and  bare,  affording  no 
cover.  The  whites  had  run  in  on  the  side  nearest 
the  bluff,  and  were  congratulating  themselves  on 
their  good  position,  when  a  pony  carrying  two  war- 
rioi-s  came  at  full  speed  across  the  open  towards  the 
farther  side  of  the  thicket.  As  he  passed  the  edge 
the  rearmost  rider  threw  himself  to  the  ground  and 
crawled  into  the  thicket.  Another  and  another  In- 
dian was  dropped  in  the  same  way,  the  whites  firing 
at  the  flying  horseman,  but  failing  to  hit,  either  from 
the  speed,  the  distance,  or  from  not  daring  to  expose 
themselves  sufficiently  for  a  good  shot.  Several  In- 
dians, having  got  on  the  bluff,  were  harassing  them 
with  a  hot  fire,  whilst  these  Indians  who  were 
dropped  from  the  horses  crawled  into  the  thicket, 
and  surrounded  on  three  sides  the  Avretched  men. 
Scarcely  moving  a  twig  themselves,  any  movement 
of  a  bush  by  the  whites  was  immediately  followed  by 
a  shot.  The  protruded  barrel  of  a  rifle,  or  the  ex- 
posure of  the  smallest  portion  of  the  person,  was  the 
target  for  a  volley.  AVhen  night  came,  three  men, 
one  wounded,  stole  out  of  the  thicket  and  made  their 
way  to  the  nearest  post,  the  only  survivors  of  a  party 
of  eight  or  ten. 


< 


f'" 


iJi'::'Jjii'sifcf!  .  ■J.r 


wimmimaBaBEam 


■-."<rfeitO.'«.i;.-.^  iw  ;^i»:<,.--i«i: 


■.7-,',"' li--^-  >K    ^■-=ri  i*^'-~  '.i-  J\t'%'  \TAi>.''y^\     '  ^ti.-'  ,t 


'    :I*. 


r 


w 


In;- 


454 


!i.«T? 


DANGER  OF   STAMPEDE. 


Another  fatal  mistake  is  to  run  away.  It  is  a 
singular  but  well-established  faet,  that  the  mere  act 
of  running  from  an  enemy  has  the  tentlency  to  de- 
moralize the  person  running,  and  that  even  the  brav- 
est man  under  such  circumstances  is  liable  to  "  stam- 
pede "  himself,  or  lose  his  head  at  the  very  time  that 
dll  his  coolness  and  judgment  are  most  necessary. 
Riding  furiously  and  without  discretion,  he  will 
either  throw  his  horse  down  by  riding  him  into  some 
ravine  or  hole,  or  tire  him  out  so  as  to  be  easily  over- 
taken. Fright  has  rendered  the  rider  helpless,  and 
he  is  Icilled  without  difficulty,  or  captured  alive,  to 
delight  the  women  with  his  torture.  I  have  knoAvn 
of  one  instance  where  a  good  plainsman,  a  citizen, 
who  had  been  in  several  fights,  a  splendid  rider  and 
shot,  became  stampeded,  and,  when  overtaken,  stood 
quiet,  pistol  in  hand,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  shot 
several  times,  and  finally  killed,  without  attempting 
the  slightest  defence. 

A  citizen,  employed  at  Fort  Dodge  as  herder,  was 
one  day  out,  fully  armed,  guarding  the  herd,  when 
a  small  party  of  Indians  dashed  upon  it.  One 
attacked  the  herder,  who  turned  his  horse  and  rode 
direct  for  the  garrison,  but  was  overtaken  and  killed 
within  two  hundi'ed  yards  of  his  quarters,  without 
firing  a  shot. 

The  safest  position  for  a  small  party  is  on  a  per- 
fectly level  plain  without  timber,  rocks,  holes,  or 
other  cover  for  an  enemy,  and  large  enough  for  the 
party  to  be  well  beyond  fair  shot  from  any  ravine. 
If  no  such  place  can  be  got  at,  then  take  the  nearest 
approach  to  it. 

A  good  plainsman,  when  travelling  with  a  small 
party  on  unknown  ground,  is  always  on  the  lookout 


1 


4f 


JjWlii    I    II 

piliiftiininii'  III  II'  ■ 


'.iC.  'a  V_.  '■i.'wr:  _■ 


';v.\-!:i.'.v/>l-^.,.lji:x»/t*Vj  v.4'<*-!i'yt  'j.v  iJ^%\*i  '■'.ttif.-i 


"*^^i^^^fii|i^|F 


■'-"  "■',  ''V."".  i"".''  ■■'■  '^'■r-rj  iwv  *?;■;.,/•■  ■•-;  f--     r"   ?  *•( »  f'-  '■:■■  .'  ■'"'■■  '■'.-'..•r-r-  'I'-y  ii'.vv 


COUKAGE   VS.    DISCIPLINE. 


455 


for  such  favorable  positions,  and  if  "jumped"  l)y  In- 
dians in  bad  ground  he  gets  back  te  tlie  last  good 
place  without  loss  of  time,  horse  ell  in  hand,  going 
at  a  good  round  rate,  but  not  running.  These  tactics 
are  always  adopted  by  the  old  trappers  and  hunters 
of  the  Plains,  and  by  all  plainsmen,  old  or  new,  who 
know  Indians;  and  so  well  have  the  Indians  come  to 
understand  it,  that  when  they  see  two  or  three  men 
take  such  a  position,  dismount,  tie  the  legs  of  their 
horses,  and  sit  down  on  the  ground  rifle  in  hand, 
they  turn  away  and  leave  that  party  alone  as  "  bad 
medicine."  Of  course,  there  are  exceptions,  when 
the  Indians  are  very  hostile,  or  the  small  party 
owns  many  and  good  horses;  but  these  are  only 
exceptions,  and  rare  exceptions.  The  Indian  does 
not  want  to  be  killed  or  wounded  any  more  than  a 
white  man,  and  he  thoroughly  counts  the  cost  of  all 
risks.  He  knows  how  he  himself  fights  when  cor- 
nered ;  and  his  experience  teaches  him  that  the  white 
will  fight  just  as  desperately  and  even  more  danger- 
ously, and  that  an  attack  on  a  party  so  situated 
will  probably  cost  more  lives  than  the  scalps  and 
horses  of  the  party  are  worth.  Besides,  as  I  have 
elsewhere  said,  he  lacks  discipline  and  the  courage 
that  comes  of  discipline.  He  argues  like  a  militia- 
man in  presence  of  the  enemy,  who,  being  in  line 
with  a  thousand  other  men,  sees  a  hostile  line  a  thou- 
sand strong  advancing  to  the  attack.  "Heavens," 
thinks  he,  "  what  can  I  do  against  such  a  force  ? " 
and  totally  forgetting  the  thousand  men  in  line  with 
him,  he  incontinently  takes  to  his  heels,  not  from 
lack  of  courage  but  of  discipline.  The  white  soldier 
going  into  battle  knows  that  many  will  be  killed  and 
wounded,  but  always  expects  that  he  himself  will  be 


^^1 


\, 


■:V:-^!| 


■h:M 


■\.i%i 


■v  viiJ,:-/-..'''''-':^A.-^.-j^. .-  'V'ttA  .' .. 


••^.i,.' 


.-.,V^r'>A.»i...  ... 


.■  v■Wif^'.■'ji'«;,i^c■;i^^■Jfl  . 


456 


RIFLE   PITS. 


»  ■  ^^  '■' 


A 


■' 


lucky  and  escape  unhurt.  The  disposition  of  the  In- 
dian is  just  the  reverse;  each  tliinks  he  is  the  one 
going  to  be  hit,  and  every  man  of  thirty  or  forty 
charging  Indians  will  throw  himself  on  the  side  of 
his  horse  on  the  presentation  of  a  single  rifle. 

To  the  white  defender  such  position  is  admirable, 
not  only  in  affording  no  cover  to  the  attack,  but  in 
bracing  and  steadying  his  own  nerves.  There  is  no 
chance  of  his  stampeding  himself;  and  a  man  is 
never  so  cool,  nor  fights  so  desperately,  as  when  he 
has  made  up  his  mind  to  live  or  die  on  one  spot. 
Many  a  life  has  been  saved  by  this  simple  proceed- 
ing, which  would  otherwise  have  been  sacrificed. 
Sometimes  the  defenders  get  into  a  buffalo  wallow. 
This  is  excellent,  unless  the  ground  be  much  broken 
by  these  depressions,  in  which  case  they  can  also 
be  used,  in  the  attack.  If  time  be  given  the  earth 
should  be  dug  up  with  knives,  and  a  rifle-pit  be 
made.  Even  a  very  slight  one  is  of  immense  advan- 
tage. I  know  of  one  successful  defence  against  re- 
peated and  desperate  charges  of  an  overwhelming 
force,  where  the  breastwork  was  the  bodies  of  three 
live  horses,  thrown  to  the  ground  in  a  sort  of  tri- 
angle, and  their  legs  firmly  tied. 

A  fi'ontier  desperado,  having  committed  a  cold- 
blooded murder  at  Hays  City,  was  pursued  by  a  l)arty 
of  whites  and  nearly  overtaken.  Stopping  on  a  level 
prairie,  he  dismounted,  drew  his  pistol,  shot  his  horse 
dead,  and,  taking  position  under  cover  of  the  body,  he 
killed  and  wounded  three  or  four  of  his  assailants, 
defended  himself  successfully  until  nightfall,  and  then 
escaped. 

In  18G7  I  was  with  a  party  of  officers  elk-hunting 
on  the  Loup  Kiver.     We  had  an  escort  of  twelve  or 


■yit^;^ 


rfTftfi 


=^i^iNe 


COKXERED. 


i57 


( 


fiiltoen  infantry  soldiers,  and  six  Pawnee  Indians. 
AVe  establislied  our  camp  in  a  fine  position,  and  each 
officer,  taking  one  or  more  Indians,  went  hunting  as 
it  suited  him.  One  day  I  was  out  with  one  Pawnee, 
and,  not  finding  game,  had  ridden  some  twelve  or  fil- 
teen  miles  from  camp,  when  we  were  discovered  by  a 
band  of  betvrcen  forty  and  fifty  hostile  Sioux,  who  im- 
mediately set  upon  us. 

About  four  miles  back  I  had  noticed  a  splendid 
defensive  position,  one  of  the  very  best  I  have  ever 
seen.  Putting  our  horses  at  half  speed  we  plunged 
into  the  barrancas  of  the  "  bad  lands,"  and  in  half  an 
hour  emerged  on  the  spot  sought  for.  Here  we  dis- 
mounted and  made  our  preparations  for  fight.  The 
Pawnee  positively  refused  to  fight  on  foot,  and  when 
I  was  ready  I  found  him  ready  also  ;  not  a  rag  of 
clothing  on  his  body,  and  nothing  but  a  bridle  on  his 
horse.  From  some  receptacle  he  had  fished  out  a  lot 
of  narrow  red,  blue,  and  white  ribbons,  which  he  had 
tied  in  his  hair,  and  in  the  mane  and  tail  of  his  horse, 
and  which,  as  he  moved,  streamed  out  for  yards  in 
the  rear.  Sitting  perfectly  naked,  with  unwonted 
ease  and  grace,  on  his  barebacked  horse,  with  fire  in 
his  eye,  determination  in  his  face,  a  Spencer  carbine 
in  one  hand,  the  reins  and  a  Colt's  revolver  in  the 
other,  he  looked  no  mean  ally  in  a  fight  for  life.  I 
had  hardly  time  to  admire  his  "  get-up  "  when  the 
whole  plain  in  front  seemed  alive  with  yelling 
savages,  charging  directly  down  upon  us.  When 
they  got  within  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  I 
drew  up  my  rifle;  but  be.  ^re  I  could  get  an  aim 
the  whole  band  threw  themselves  on  the  sides  of 
their  horses  and,  swooping  in  circles  like  a  flock 
of  blackbirds,  rushed  back  to  the  limit  of  the  plain, 

29 


Jl 


^■;!u^ 


pwti.  Kmi^wmm^mmmmifiimmm 


■SSjL 


468 


A   SPOILED   HUNT. 


!■ 


,  f. 

■fv 

'i'   ■ 


about  six  hundrod  yards.  Here  tlicy  lialtod  and 
held  a  consultation,  and  wonie  of  them,  going  off 
on  the  flanks,  examined  all  the  ground  and  ap- 
proaches. Finding  no  line  of  attack  excei)t  in 
fj-ont,  they  again  essayed  the  charge,  again  to  be 
sent  to  the  rear  by  the  mere  raising  of  the  rifle. 
This  was  again  and  again  repeated  with  like  result. 
Fijudly  they  withdrew  beyond  sight,  and  I  wished 
to  start;  but  the  Pawnee  said,  "No,  they  will  come 
again."  They  were  absent  for  nearly  an  hour;  I  be- 
lieve they  were  resting  their  horses.  It  was  very 
hot,  the  whole  affair  was  becoming  very  monotonous, 
and  I  was  nodding,  if  not  asleep,  when  the  Pawnee 
said,  '*  Here  they  come."  I  started  up  to  find  them 
within  shot,  and  brought  up  my  rifle;  whei-eupon  all 
ducked,  wheeled,  and  went  away  as  before,  entirely 
out  of  sight.  During  all  the  charges  the  Pawnee 
had  evinced  the  greatest  eagerness  for  fight,  and  I 
had  no  little  difliculty  in  keeping  him  by  me  when- 
ever the  enemy  ran  away  after  a  charge.  Answering 
yell  lor  yell,  he  heaped  upon  them  all  the  opprobrious 
epithets  he  could  think  of  in  English,  Spanish,  Sioux 
and  Pawnee.  When  they  wheeled  and  went  off  the 
last  time,  he  turned  to  me  with  the  most  intense  dis- 
gust and  contempt,  and  said,  emi^haticall^',  "Dam 
coward,  Sioux  !  now  go."  So,  after  a  four-hoiu's' 
siege,  we  saddled  our  horses  and  returned  to  camp 
without  molestation,  but  were  followed  the  whole 
way;  and  from  that  time  we  had  no  sport  or  comfort 
in  our  hunt,  the  wretches  preceding  us  by  day,  driv- 
ing away  the  game,  and  trying  to  burn  us  out  every 
night ;  constantly  making  their  unwelcome  presence 
felt,  and  yet  never  giving  us  a  chance  for  even  a 
long  shot  at  them. 


'  ">' 


m. 


.^,ji:- 


A   SUCCESSFUL    STAND. 


459 


In  1868,  when  crossing  country  with  one  c^n'ahy 
''orderly,"  I,  on  rising  a  little  ridge,  found  myself 
within  less  than  one  hundred  yards  of  two  Indians, 
who,  going  up  the  ravine  at  my  feet,  had  just  passed 
the  position  on  which  I  was.  Fortunately,  it  was  a 
drizzly,  disagreeable  day,  and  they,  having  their  heads 
covered  up  with  their  blankets,  neither  saw  nor  heard 
us.  Waiting  until  they  had  got  out  of  sight,  I  passed 
on  a  little  distance,  when  I  saw  others  and  others,  until 
I  found  that  I  was  actually  surrounded  on  three  sides 
by  parties  of  Indians,  whose  number  I  could  not 
estimate.  Several  stopped  and  looked  at  us,  then  went 
on,  evidently  taking  us  for  some  of  their  own  parties ; 
and  it  was  not  until  we  had  obtained  a  fair  start  for  a 
high  and  level  table-land  which  I  knew  of,  about  two 
miles  off,  that  they  discovered  that  we  were  whites. 
The  alarm  was  given,  and  they  came  for  us.  My 
"  orderly  "  being  mounted  on  a  mule,  and  the  country 
being  very  rough  and  difficult,  they  had  a  great 
advantage  in  the  race,  and,  on  arriving  at  a  good 
position  on  the  plain,  I  had  only  time  to  loosen  the 
girth,  and  tie  my  horse's  head  close  down  to  his  fore- 
feet, when  the  whole  yelling  band  appeared  on  the 
edge  of  the  table-land.  As  soon  as  they  saw  my 
position  they  stopped,  consulted,  scattered,  and, 
keeping  well  out  of  certain  rifle  range,  went  all  around 
me  looking  for  some  ravine  or  other  cover  for  a  safe 
approach.  Finding  none,  they  returned  to  their  first 
position,  and  had  another  consultation;  after  VtJich 
they  rode  off  in  the  direction  they  had  come,  and  I 
saw  no  more  of  them.  The  whole  afiair,  chase  and 
siege,  did  not  last  over  half  an  hour. 

In  1871  I  was  changing  stations  from  Fort  Lyon 
to  Fort  Larned  on  the  Arkansas,  taking,  of  course, 


-.?v. 


"^SSfSi^A*"" 


■ -««*iWjMaNS.«iiiaii;4ija(& 


'i.f>'''"-*^vf  ,  -  )<•.  v/  '  ^^•.r■  'f  ""•  ^'■'"v  •■  "•'r-  • 


-»i  '  •|--»t7     -^-lij,  *V-J(^    KH' 


I 


r 


430 


READY    FOR   THIi:   FIGHT. 


' 


^|.^& 


i; 


'■f-- 


my  servants  and  liousehokl  property.  I  had  several 
wagons  and  an  ample  infantry  escort.  About  thirty 
miles  west  of  Fort  Dodge  the  wagon  road  crosses  a 
portion  of  the  high  prairie  called  the  '^nine  mile  ridge." 
This  high  land  is  cut  by  several  broad  depressions, 
and  towards  the  river  broken  by  numberless  little  I'a- 
vines,  —  very  favorable  ground  for  antelope-hunting, 
and  into  these  I,  with  my  colortd  man-servant,  was 
soon  poking  after  game.  It  was  a  raw,  foggy  morn- 
ing, and  I  had  been  hunting  probably  for  two  hours, 
when  the  fog  lifted  slightly,  discovering  two  men  on 
horseback  about  two  hundred  yards  oif,  whom,  as 
they  had  on  overcoats,  I  took  to  be  soldiers  from  Fort 
Dodge.  As  soon  as  they  saw  me,  however,  one  of 
them  rode  the  signal  "danger,"  "collect  together,"  and 
J  ))egan  to  think  of  my  escort.  Looking  round  I  was 
greatly  annoyed  to  find  the  si}ring  wagon,  in  which 
was  my  colored  cook,  about  six  hundred  yards  from 
me,  opposite  the  Indians,  while  the  wagons  and  escort 
could  not  be  seen.  Making  the  best  of  the  situation 
I  galloped  back  to  the  spring  wagon,  had  it  driven 
well  out  into  the  plain,  and  the  mules  unhitched  and 
well  secured.  The  driver  got  out  his  rifle,  and  every- 
thing was  satisfactory,  except  the  presence  of  the 
cook.  I  not  only  feared  she  might  be  hit,  but  I  knew 
the  Indians  would  be  more  dangerous  if  a  woman 
were  likely  to  be  a  prize.  Making  her  lie  down  in 
the  bottom  of  the  wagon,  I  packed  around  her  lunch 
and  other  boxes,  blankets,  cushi  ms,  seats,  everything 
tnat  might  stop  a  bullet,  and  gave  her  positive  oi-ders 
to  remain  perfectly  quiet  and  concealed,  no  matter 
what  took  place.  I  then  took  position  with  my  two 
men  some  paces  on  one  side  of  the  wagon,  to  spare  it 
from  shots.      During  all  this  time  the  Indians  had 


DIPLOMACY. 


461 


been  collecting,  and,  soon  after  I  was  ready,  a  line  of 
about  thirty  moved  slowly  towards  me.  At  about 
eight  hundred  yards  tliey  broke  into  a  sharp  canter. 
Expecting  the  charge  to  come  in  a  moment,  I  went 
towards  the  wagon  to  be  sure  that  the  animals  were 
tied  safely,  when,  to  my  great  indignation,  I  found 
Julia  (the  cook),  revolv^er  in  hand,  and  her  head  thrust 
out  of  the  front  of  the  wagon.  "  Get  back  there,"  I 
angrily  ordered ;  "  do  you  want  to  be  shot?  "  "  Lord, 
Colonel,"  she  answered,  "let  me  alone.  I'll  never 
have  another  chance  to  see  an  Indian  fight."  The 
earnestness  of  this,  under  the  circumstances,  most 
unexpected  answer  set  all  to  laughing;  and  John, 
the  husband,  who  a  moment  before  was  almost  white 
with  apprehension,  regained,  with  good  humor,  his 
natural  black.  Every  moment  of  delay  being  most 
important  to  us,  I,  when  the  Indians  had  got  within 
about  four  hundred  yards,  stepped  forward,  made  the 
Indian  signal  "  Halt,"  and  displayed  a  white  handker- 
chief. To  my  great  gratification  they  halted;  and  in 
a  moment  one  came  forward  with  what  had  once  been 
a  white  flannel  shirt,  fastened  to  the  pole  of  a  lance. 
"VYe  met  half  way  —  I  very  friendly,  he  very  gruff;  I 
disposed  to  talk,  he  to  be  saucy.  I  asked  the  name 
of  the  tribe.  He  answered  by  demanding  something 
to  eat.  I  asked  Adhere  they  came  from.  lie  answered, 
"Powder,  lead,  sugar."  AVe  could  not  understand 
each  other  well,  which  I  was  rather  thankful  for,  as 
It  prolonged  the  talk.  He  wanted  everything;  and 
asked,  not  as  a  beggar,  but  demanded,  as  one  having 
right.  I  am  compelled  to  admit  a  certain  amount  of 
duplicity  on  this  occasion,  having,  to  gain  time, 
promised  things  which  I  had  no  intention  of  per- 
forming. 


i'l'i 


■"?^ 


^^ 


i 


:  /.Ai-. 


;.  '-IT-  -.T  :'ir 


462 


DISGUSTED   INTHANS. 


I 


1-\ 


i-  'I 


,4' 


.V.J.' 
.»-  ■ 


The  Indians  had  not  seen  the  wagons,  which  were 
crossing  one  of  the  long  depressions  below  the  level 
of  the  Plain  on  which  we  were.  They  were  sure  of 
us,  but  f)referred  getting  what  we  had  without  a  fight 
if  possible,  especially  as  we  had  a  good  position. 
While  we  continued  to  talk  I  heard  most  welcome 
sounds,  and,  looking  in  that  direction,  saw  the 
wagons  coming  at  the  full  speed  of  the  mules,  while 
a  line  of  "  the  boys  in  blue,"  rifle  in  hand,  stretched  at 
a  run  towards  the  spring  wagon.  I  pointed  them 
out  to  the  Indian,  and  told  him  to  go.  He  needed 
no  second  bidding,  but  rushed  back  to  his  party, 
which  was  in  the  greatest  turmoil  and  confusion.  I 
went  back  to  the  wagons,  hitched  up  and  started,  the 
Indians  holding  a  consultation. 

As  I  regained  the  road  the  chief  came  to  me  with 
the  flannel  shirt  flag.  He  was  \ery  much  grieved. 
"I  had  deceived  them.  They  could  hav^e  killed  us 
and  taken  everything  we  had  before  the  troops  came 
up.  They  did  not  kill  us,  because  I  promised  to  give 
them  what  they  wanted;  therefore  I  must  give  them 
all  I  promised.  lie  wanted  to  go  Avith  his  young 
men  and  sleep  in  my  camp  that  night,  that  I  might 
give  them  plenty  to  eat,  and  powder,  lead,  and  otiier 
things  I  promised."  I  told  him  th;  t  he  and  his  party 
were  robbers  and  miu'derers ;  that  he  must  go  away ; 
and  that  if  he  or  any  of  them  came  near  my  march  or 
my  camp  I  would  kill  them.  lie  left  me  and  rode 
slowly  back  to  his  men,  the  most  disgusted-looking 
Indian  I  ever  saw.  We  weui:  our  way,  leaving  the 
band  sitting  in  a  circle  on  the  ground,  evidently  dis- 
cussing in  no  amiable  frame  of  mind  the  outrage  that 
had  been  pei'i)etratcd  on  them. 

A  very  common  mii-'take,  and  one  especially  easy 


THE    COUP. 


463 


10  fall  irto  when  armed  with  a  modern  improved 
breech-loading  rifle,  is  in  firing  too  soon.  In  the 
"good  old  times"  of  muzzle-loading,  the  man  who 
fired  a  shot  without  sure  death  to  his  enemy  was 
very  likely  to  "go  ir.>der"  himself  The  Indian  has 
great  respect  for  a  loaded,  but  none  for  an  empty, 
rifle.  He  knows  the  value  of  nerve,  and  fully 
appreciates  the  dangerous  character  of  the  man  who 
can  refrain  from  firing  until  he  has  a  sure  shot.  He 
is  particularly  susceptible  to  what  is  called  "moral 
effect."  Shots  whistling  harmlessly  by  his  ears  tend 
to  encourage  him,  while  the  fall  of  a  single  man  or 
horse  will  sometimes  send  a  very  determined  band  to 
the  right-about. 

A  very  curious  custom  of  war  among  some  of  the 
Plains  tribes  is  called  "giving  the  coup."  N^o  satis- 
factory explanation  has  been  given  as  to  how  the 
custom  originated,  but  I  think  it  was  probably  intro- 
duced to  prevent  quarrels  among  warriors  over  the 
scalps  of  their  fallen  enemies,  to  an  Indian  the  most 
valuable  of  all  possessions.  The  name  indicates 
that  the  custom  obtained  in  the  days  of  the  old 
French  trappers,  predecessors  of  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company. 

When  a  foe  has  fallen  in  a  fight,  the  scalp  belongs 
to  that  warrior  who  shall  firs^  strike  the  body  with  a 
weapon.  Formerly  it  was  required  that  it  should  be 
a  deadly  Aveapon,  as  a  knife  or  tomahawk,  but  at  the 
present  day  the  blow  is  struck  with  a  stick.  This 
blow  is  the  "  coup,"  and  the  weapon  is  called  the 
"coup-stick,"  and  is  an  indispensable  article  in  the 
outfit  of  a  warrior  going  to  battle. 

These  sticks  are  as  varied  as  the  taste  and  fancy 
of  the  owners.    Some  are  merely  slender  wands,  six  to 


TV, 


r 


'<>  ,4'afeJi^S£iiEliyt^to!toatto».^  :«;. 


'  IK 


I 


^■■--■'-V/S?— ■>   ■.  T-'J-.  ■■•*■■■■ 


464 


THE   INSULTED   PAWNEE. 


ten  feet  long;  others  are  short  and  club-like,  or  shaped 
conveniently  for  throwing.  All  are  ornamented  with 
paint,  feathers,  poreupine-quills,  beadwork,  or  furs. 

Even  among  members  of  the  same  tribe,  a  blow 
with  a  "  coup-stick  "  is  an  insult  and  disgrace  only  to 
be  wiped  out  with  blood. 

In  his  celebrated  Avinter  campaign  against  the  Siou\% 
General  Crook  had,  as  auxiliaries,  aljout  three  hund'  ed 
and  fifty  Indians  of  various  tribes  and  bands,  among 
them  a  considerable  number  of  Sioux  and  four  com- 
panies of  Pawnees,  these  latter  drilled  and  disciplined 
like  soldiers.  I  have  elsewhere  spoken  of  the  unre- 
lenting hatred  of  these  tribes  each  to  the  other.  One 
day  when  the  Pawnees  were  quietly  marching  along 
the  road  in  formal  ranks,  and  the  Sioux  were  careei'iug 
in  individual  freedom. over  the  prairie,  a  young  Sioux 
warrior  rode  up  to  the  ranks,  and  to  signalize  at  once 
his  hatred  to  the  tribe,  and  his  contempt  for  Indians 
who  would  march  in  ranks,  struck  one  of  the  Pawnees 
with  his  "coup-stick."  In  an  instant,  half-a-dozen 
revolvers  were  presented,  and  the  Sioux  would  have 
paid  for  his  temerity  then  and  there  but  that  the 
Pawnee  discipline  was  so  excellent  that  a  word  from 
the  officer  restrained  them.  That  night,  the  Pawnee 
who  had  been  struck  went  to  Major  Xorth,  the  com- 
mander of  all  the  Pawntes,  told  him  with  sobs  of  the 
disgrace  that  had  been  put  upon  him,  and  begged  to 
be  permitted  to  kill  his  assailant.  This  was  of  coui-se 
refused,  but  Major  North  made  such  represention 
of  the  matter  to  General  Crook,  that  the  Sioux  were 
thereafter  effectually  restrained  from  such  little  ec- 
centricities. 

The  loss  of  his  "coup-stick"  in  battle  is  to  the 
Indian  warrior  a  misfortune  second  only  to  the  loss 


HONOR   WON   BY   COUP-STICKS. 


465 


?-?5| 


of  his  "  medicine,"  and  nothing  short  of  a  wouni!  or 
the  loss  of  his  horse  will  save  the  loser  from  a  certain 
amount  of  contempt. 

In  a  fight,  when  an  enemy  falls,  all  those  warriors 
*.i  the  vicinity  rush  for  the  body,  each  exerting  every 
effoi't  to'  be  the  first  to  strike  it,  those  in  rear  hurling 
their  "coup-sticks"  at  long  distances  in  the  hope  of  a 
fortunate  strike.  The  instant  a  strike  is  made,  the 
other  warriors  pick  up  their  "  coup-sticks,"  and  go  on 
with  the  fight,  leaving  the  lucky  striker  to  secure  his 
scalp  at  his  leisure. 

If  in  a  melee  or  running  fight,  a  warrior  kills  an 
enemy,  he  must,  to  secure  the  proper  recognition  and 
reward,  rush  at  once  on  the  prostrate  body,  and  strike 
his  "  coup  "  .regardless  of  other  enemies  who  may  be 
at  hand.  This  of  course  renders  the  Indian  iCss  for- 
midable. 

The  enemy  being  in  full  flight,  a  brave  and  slcilful 
warrioi"  who  would  press  on  and  on,  adding  victim 
after  victim  to  his  list,  would  return  at  last  to  find 
the  scalps  of  all  the  enemies  slain  by  his  hands  at  the 
girdles  of  laggards  in  the  race,  to  each  of  whom  would 
be  accorded  all  the  honors  due  to  one  who  had  killed 
his  man.  While  he  who  took  all  risks  and  did  all  the 
killing,  and  who  in  his  eagerness  to  kill,  may  have 
passed  even  the  last  of  his  victims,  has  nothing  what- 
ever to  shoAV  for  his  skill  and  gallantly,  and  is  conse- 
quently without  claim  to  honor  or  credit,  the  cowardly 
shirks,  far  in  the  rear,  collect  his  scalps,  and  gain  all 
the  glory  and  ai)plause.  The  consequence  is,  that 
when  a  foe  falls,  the  slayer,  even  in  the  hottest  race, 
and  though  other  enemies  are  in  his  power,  must,  to 
obtain  the  proper  i-ecognition  of  \m  act,  at  once  give 
up  all  thought  of  further  killing,  make  his  "  coup," 


■  '^ 


■M  5 


.'C 


ify- 


.r^r 


;*■•-:■;■■ 


f;>-'(j!vlfcA^^feitu;„'*,'*ji»v.i^«r»,„.i'.itteS 


tr  !i 


n 

i 


r**- ?  ^'^^ -f  yv^v,?^  I*"' 


-"';-V^.;-:T<'".->f7"-.'<S;, 


'■'■■">■  ■■■.', .' 


466 


KILLING   OF   WOMEN   AND   CHILDREN. 


and  take  the  scalp.  It  can  readily  be  seen  that  this 
custom  is  entirely  to  the  advantage  of  the  fugitives, 
and  accounts,  in  some  measure,  for  so  few  Indians 
being  killed  in  their  fights  among  themselves. 

A  great  deal  of  unnecessary  sympathy  has  been 
wasted  by  the  philanthropic  world  on  the  killing  of 
squaws  in  battle.  As  a  rule,  no  woman  is  hurt  except 
by  accident,  or  when  fighting  like  a  man.  In  the 
surprise  and  attack  of  an  Indian  village,  when  all  is 
excitement,  and  bullets  are  flying  in  pursuit  of  every 
flying  enemy,  women  and  childi*en  are  often  killed 
and  wounded.  Women  and  children  were  killed  at 
Gettysburg,  and  this  is  to  be  expected  if  combats  take 
place  where  women  and  children  are. 

Even  in  the  surprise  of  the  most  sudden  attack,  the 
squaws  who  cannot  get  away  are  prompt  to  make 
their  sex  known,  holding  up  their  hands  and  yelling 
*'squaAV,"  "squaw; "  and  even  in  the  excitement  and 
thirst  for  blood  engendered  by  battle,  I  have  never 
heard  of  a  woman  being  killed  by  any  soldier  of  the 
regular  army. 

Many  of  the  middle-aged  qnd  old  women  handle 
arms  with  great  facility  and  address,  and  it  is  not  at 
all  uncommon  for  women  to  go  on  the  "war-path"  as 
warriors,  armed  and  dressed  as  men. 

Even  when  not  so  acting,  the  dress  and  mode  of 
riding  of  men  and  women  are  so  very  similar,  that  in 
cor.  diets  and  i)ursuits  on  horseback,  squuws  are  not 
unfrequently  killed.  This  is  and  must  remain  un- 
avoidable. 

Among  themselves  Indians  are  not  quarrelsome. 
Fisticuft's  are  unknown,  and  fights  with  weapons 
extremely  rare.  If  an  Indian  has  made  up  his  mind 
to  kill  an  enemy,  he  generally  resorts  to  treachery, 


THE   DUEL. 


467 


shoots  him  from  an  ambuscade,  or  assassinates  him  in 
any  most  convenient  and  safe  way. 

Personal  conflicts  are  therefore  almost  always  en- 
tirely unpremeditated.  When  a  quarrel  between  two 
Indians  has  become  so  bitter  that  physical  force  is 
resorted  to,  each  flies  at  the  other,  assailing  him  with 
whatever  weapon  he  can  first  jirocure. 

The  foi'mal  duel  is  a  peculiarly  Christian  institution, 
growing  out  of  the  supposed  direct  interference  of 
God  in  behalf  of  the  right.  It  was  introduced  into 
legal  and  religious  trials,  among  Europeans,  between 
the  sixth  and  eighth  centuries. 

I  have  never  found  any  account  of  the  duel  as  an 
institution  among  any  race  or  people  except  Christians. 
I  was  therefore  greatly  surprised  to  find  on  apparently 
excellent  authority*  an  account  of  a  formal  duel  be* 
twcen  two  Sioux.  I  have  made  inquiries  of  numerous 
Indians  of  many  tribes,  especially  Sioux,  none  of  whom 
had  ever  known  or  ever  heard  of  any  such  custom, 
nor  even  of  a  single  case.  I  must  therefore  conclude 
either  that  these  Sioux  were  "following  the  white 
man's  road,"  that  is,  doing  as  they  had  seen  white 
men  do,  or  that  Mr.  Belden  was  drawing  on  his  imagi- 
nation. 

*  The  "White  Chief,"  page  190. 


■f 


:4^ 


'>.::. 


-j-;;i^>,^    , 


■mimiymmm-~-f7^'!'fK- 


^^^pssm 


'  »'''■''' '■(''■..'S--  ^.'*-i' •"' ''"^-';  t  •*■'■■» 


'l"^-l^- 


'TT  ;> 


CHAPTER  xxxy. 


AilMY    LIFE    ox    THE    PLAINS  —  TimiLLrNO    ADVEN- 
TURES  AJIOXG   THE   LNDIANS. 


The  Real  Pioneer  —  General  Custer's  Attack  on  Black  Kettle  —  A  Des- 
perate Conflict  —  Undaunted  Savages  —  The  Story  of  tlie  IMassacro 
of  Major  Elliott  and  His  Nineteen  Men  —  Tliree  Thousand  Warriors 
Rush  to  the  Assistance  of  Hlaok  Kettle  — Wild  Alarm  —  The  Indians 
surround  Major  Elliott's  command  —  Hasty  Preparations  for  the  Worst 

—  Attacked  on  all  Sides  — Tlie  Fight  for  Life  — The  Deatli  of  Twenty 
Bi'ave  Men  —  The  Last  One  to  Die  —  Courage  and  Heroism  of 
Sergeant-Major  Kennedj' — Alone,  Sabre  in  Hand  —  Exulting  Savages 

—  Inviting  Instant  Death  —  Kennedy  Suddenly  Kills  a  Cliief — An 
Instant  of  Terrified  Surpiise  —  Death  of  Kennedy,  Pierceil  bj-  Twenty 
Bullets  — The  Battle  of  White  Stone  Hill  — Eveiy  Man  for  Himself. 

HE  history  of  the  Army  of  the  United 
States  is  a  history  of  the  territorial 
expanse  of  our  country. 

Bold  and  determined  as  were  th" 
bands  of  stalwart  pioneers,  who,  reck- 
less of  personal  danger,  pushed  far 
beyond  the  cxtremcst  limits  of  the 
so-called  frontiers,  they  could  have  done 
little  towards  the  advancement  of  that 
frontier,  but  for  other  bands,  scarcely  stronger 
numericall}^,  but  bound  together  by  a  bond  stronger 
than  iron,  more  impervious  than  the  rock:  discipline. 
The  history  of  the  colonies  is  a  record  of  conflict, 
and  while  the  Republic  was  yet  in  its  swaddling- 
clothes,  those  of  its  citizens  most  remote  from  the 
centres  of  wealth  and   power  have  been  constantly 

468 


ADV-tVNCE   GUARD   OF   CIVILIZATION. 


4G9 


confronted  with  a  foe,  acnte,  wily,  and  terrible,  not 
only  in  his  destructive  force,  but  in  his  vindictive 
energy  of  action. 

Wild  and  free,  burning  for  an  opportunity  for  per- 
sonal distinction,  the  Indian  of  each  tribe  came  to 
look  ui)on  every  man,  not  of  that  tribe,  as  his  per- 
sonal and  tribal  enemy.  The  settlement  of  strangers 
either  white  or  red,  upon  lands  claimed  by  that  tribe 
was  an  invasion  and  an  insult;  and  the  interlopers 
were  at  once  enemies,  unless  they  had  properly  pur- 
chased the  right  to  be  there,  either  by  presents,  or 
by  marriage  with  its  women. 

Men  who  had  once  tasted  the  sweets  of  solitude, 
fi'cedom,  or  "  elbow-room  "  as  they  called  it,  became 
so  iniatuated  with  it  as  to  be  impatient  of  crowding 
even  by  one  of  similar  tastes  and  habits  settled  twenty 
miles  away.  This  appears  an  exaggeration,  but  hav- 
ing witnessed  its  outcropping  in  most  vindictive  form 
on  many  occasions,  and  even  within  a  year  of  this 
writing,  I  can  jicrsonally  vouch  for  the  existence  of 
the  feeling  among  a  class  of  frontiersmen. 

Naturally  the  Indians  felt  this  crowding  even  more 
than  the  pioneers,  and  they  continually  resented  it. 
Isolated  as  were  the  whites  they  could  have  effected 
no  pei-nianent  lodgment  in  the  country  of  the  sav- 
ages, but  for  the  small  bodies  of  troops,  which, 
locating  themselves  in  advance,  held  the  Indians  in 
check,  and  became  rallying-points  in  times  of  danger; 
nuclei  of  towns  when  that  danger  passed. 

Since  the  establishment  of  our  government,  the 
army  has  been  the  bulwark  of  civilization;  the  rock 
on  which  the  forces  of  barbarism  were  shattered  and 
expended.  Making  amends  for  its  deficiency  in  num- 
bers by  the  most   admirable  discipline   and  indomi- 


J'^ 


:\)A't,t'-kij 


^smSi 


%■ 


■  I 


470 


ATTACK  ON  BLACK  KETTLE. 


table  courage,  it  has  for  a  hundred  years  stood  like  a 
wall  of  adamant  between  the  weak  n"fl  scnttered 
settlements  and  the  savage  foe;  giving  a  continent  to 
civilization  and  rendering  possible  an  immigration 
unequalled  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

Ever  surrounded  by  overwhelming  numbers  of  ac- 
tive and  treacherous  enemies;  ever  keeping  a  watch- 
ful eye  on  the  safety  of  the  settlements  behind  it; 
the  army  has  ever  been  the  real  pioneer.  At  one 
tune  cheerfully  undergoing  hardships  and  privations; 
at  another,  manfully  baring  its  breast  to  the  sliock 
of  unequal  battle;  now  by  dint  of  pure  manhood  win- 
ning victories  from  overwhelming  hordes  of  savages; 
now  going  down  to  deaths  as  heroic  as  those  of  the 
three  hundred  at  Thermopyla3. 

About  twelve  P.M.  of  the  night  of  the  2Gth  N^o- 
vember,  1868,  Custer  discovered  on  the  banks  of  the 
"Washita  River,  the  camp  of  hostile  Cheycniics  under 
Black  Kettle.  Having  no  intention  of  attacking 
before  daylight  he  had  ample  time  to  arrange  his 
plan  of  action.  He  divided  his  command  into  four 
nearly  equal  parts.  Retaining  one,  he  sent  the 
others  to  take  jDositions  on  the  other  three  sides  of 
the  enemy.  Relying  on  the  intelligent  obedience  to 
orders  of  the  officers  commanding  the  several  col- 
unuis,  he,  just  in  the  gray  of  the  morning,  gave  the 
concerted  signal,  and  from  four  sides  the  troops 
dashed  upon  the  startled  enemy,  completely  sur- 
rounding the  camp. 

In  a  few  moments  the  camp  itself  was  in  possession 
of  the  troops,  but  the  undaunted  savages,  taking 
refuge  behind  trees  and  in  ravines,  maintained  for 
several  hours  a  despei-ate  conflict. 

Taking  advantage  of  the   cover  of  thick  brush, 


I   ■?■ 


MAJOR  ELLIOTT. 


471 


some  of  the  warriors  mounted  their  ponies,  and 
bursting  through  a  weak  part  of  the  Hue  of  envii'on- 
ing  troops,  eseaped  to  the  prairie.  Major  ElHott, 
who  commanded  one  of  the  attacking  columns,  saw 
the  act,  and  calling  to  some  of  his  men  dashed  off  in 
pursuit  of  the  fugitives. 

Neither  he  nor  any  one  of  the  nineteen  men  who 
accompanied  him  was  ever  again  seen  alive  by  any 
white  man.  The  story  of  their  fate  was  told  by  the 
position  in  which  their  bodies  were  found,  and  by  the 
Indians  themselves  when  the  war  was  over. 

Black  Kettle's  camp  was  the  upper  one  of  a  series 
of  camps  of  five  different  tribes  of  hostile  savages, 
which  extended  for  many  miles  along  the  river,  and 
contained  not  less  than  three  thousand  fighting  men. 

The  sounds  of  the  attack  on  Bla«k  Kettle  aroused 
the  nearest  camp;  the  alarm  spread  down  the  river 
with  the  speed  of  the  swiftest  ponies.  While  the  old 
men  and  the  women  gathered  up  the  ponies  and  the 
property,  the  fighting  men  poured  out  of  the  camf)s 
fully  armed  and  equipped,  and  iushed  to  the  assistance 
of  Black  Kettle. 

Intent  on  his  pursuit,  and  not  suspecting  the 
vicinity  of  other  camps  or  Indians,  Major  Elliott 
suddenly  found  his  little  party  entirely  surrounded 
by  an  overwhelming  horde  of  enemies  who  attacked 
him  on  all  sides. 

Dismounting,  loosing  their  horses  and  forming  in  a 
circle,  the  little  band  of  twenty  brave  men  prepared 
to  sell  their  lives  as  dearly  as  possible.  Brave  as 
they  were,  the  contest  was  too  unequal  to  be  pro- 
longed. In  less  than  twenty  minutes  every  man  but 
one  was  dead. 

Wounded  in  several  places,  his   ammunition  ex- 


V 


f 


^  "'V 


U''' 

'%-, 


.'.<p'  ■; 


.mmmmutjiiuiitku'uim^ 


i^"«7Tf'"'' 


r,a~-  •  ,^„ 


V  '4 


472 


DEATH   OF   SERGEANT   KEXXEDY. 


'.  JV. 


X' 


i  '.'r 


I  ■■  i 


pendod,  Scrgcant-Major  Kennedy  stood  alone,  sabi'c  in 
hand,  .surrounded  by  the  crowd  ol'  exulthig  savages. 
No  shot  was  fii'ed  at  hhn,  no  effort  was  made  to  kill 
him,  but  several  of  the  Indians  upproaehed  him  with 
hands  thrust  out.     "  How?  "  "How  ?  " 

Too  well  he  knew  the  meaning  of  this  kindly 
demonstration!  Merciful  death  had  overtaken  all  his 
gallant  comrades.  He  was  to  be  reserved  for  all  the 
horrors  of  the  torture.  In  his  i)rolonged  agonies 
were  his  enemies  to  find  consolation  for  the  injuries 
the  troo^Ds  liad  inflicted  upon  them. 

Kealizing  all,  he  saw  that  his  only  hope  of  escaping 
torture  was  in  so  exasperating  the  Indians  that  they 
would  kill  him  at  once.  Seeming  to  surrender,  he 
advanced  towards  the  chief.  They  approached  each 
other,  hands  exteijdf  d.  Quick  as  thought  Kennedy's 
sword  passed  through  the  chiers  body.  One  instant 
of  terrified  surprise  on  the  part  of  the  Indians;  the 
next,  twenty  bullet-holes  i);  Kennedy's  body. 

The  merciful  death  had  come  to  him. 

The  bodies  of  these  brave  men  were  subsequently 
found  just  where  they  died,  in  u  circle  of  not  over 
twenty  yards  in  diameter. 

I  might  multiply  such  instances  of  cool  courage 
and  undaunted  heroism,  until  they  would  make  a 
volume  of  themselves,  but  grateful  as  is  the  task  of 
recording  such  noble  deeds,  I  will  leave  it  to  other 
pens. 

In  a  previous  chapter  I  have  noted  the  peculiari- 
ties of  Indian  fighting  at  different  epochs,  resulting 
from  the  diffei'cnce  in  the  weapons  with  which  they 
were  armed. 

These  prove  that  Indian  does  not  differ  from  civi- 
lized  warfare,   in    that,   within    certain    limits,    the 


ssr 


^i' 


'ii'<Makmf.i-:iiii'.^)ikjiAii^t)^iiii}^i^,.i,i,_,^;. 


•.'.•*.\''-^m','?t^'!rf 


$»>.■; 


;w^ 


V 


.-3      V.    1      r  *^ 


,m 


* 


1 


DESTRUCTION  OP   OFFICERS. 


475 


shorter  the  effectiveness  of  the  weapon,  the  more 
destructiyc  it  is  to  the  life  of  the  combatants.  When 
soldiers  Vvere  armed  only  with  sword  or  pike,  the 
shock  of  battle  was  a  continuous  succession  of  single 
combats,  in  which  one  of  the  combatants  must  of 
necessity  be  killec^  or  disabled,  or  must  run  away. 
This  accounto  for  the  terrible  destruction  of  life  as 
set  forth  in  the  battles  of  the  Bible,  and  in  the  pro- 
fane histories  of  the  earlier  nations.  When  the  In- 
dian was  armed  willi  bow  and  Jance,  his  fighting  to 
be  effective  must  be  almost  hand  to  hand,  and  the 
loss  correspondingly  great.  Since  they  have  pro- 
cured arms  effective  at  long  distances,  the  destruc- 
tion of  life  in  battle  is  comparatively  insignificant, 
and  a  "  dead  "  Indian,  an  object  most  rare  to  see. 

When  fighting  Indians,  the  officers  of  the  army 
are  exceptions  to  the  comparative  immunity  from 
danger,  consequent  in  civilized  warfare,  on  the  use 
of  the  long-range  weajjons.  In  "  the  good  old  times  " 
of  impetuous  charges  on  horseback,  the  officer  took 
his  chance  with  the  private  soldier.  Now,  crouched 
behind  rocks  in  almost  inaccessible  positions,  the 
Indians  (the  very  best  skirmishers  in  the  woi'ld) 
coolly  pick  off  the  officers  of  the  attacking  force. 
The  reports  of  the  battles  and  combats  of  the  last  ten 
years  will  show  a  loss  of  ofticers,  in  comparison  to 
the  loss  of  men,  unprecedented  in  warfare. 

As  an  example  of  the  "old  style"  of  Indian  fight- 
ing I  give  a  short  sketch  of  the  battle  of  White  Stone 
Hill,  between  ihe  United  States  forces,  about  one 
thousand  strong,  under  General  Sidly,  and  a  combi- 
nation of  Sioux  and  Blackfect,  numbering  not  less 
than  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred  warriors. 

In  1862-3,  the  Sioux  Indians,  taking  advantage  of 

80 


^iteia&i!SMik^tf«&iai*iS..-*, : 


f^*^^^  ,jy^-^*>f^€* 'f^fV  tii^^fi^^  ^J-y^iffirv  e^y^f'^-^-^'- -'  t«^  •$'^1' i  ^  -^P"**-*  ■^f^'^S"^  -?■■*':;  4  •'^'■'^^'^H 


4' 


476 


DISCOVEEY   OF   THE    CAMP. 


the  terrible  intestine  conflict  in  which  the  United 
States  were  engaged,  and  the  consequent  withdrawal 
of  the  troops  from  their  country,  had  broken  out 
with  great  violence,  committing  on  the  exposed  and 
helpless  settlers  all  the  outrages  and  horrors  known 
to  savage  Avarfare.  AVhen  this  could  no  longer  be 
borne,  two  expeditions  were  sent  against  them,  the 
first  of  which  encountering  the  Indians,  was  easily 
beaten  out  of  their  country.  The  second,  under 
General  Sully,  moved  northward  between  the  Mis- 
souri and  James  rivers,  keeping  strong  detachments 
scouting  in  front  and  flank  in  the  hope  of  discovei'- 
ing  the  main  camp  of  Indians. 

On  the  3d  of  September,  1863,  a  battalion  of  the 
Sixth  Iowa  Cavahy,  three  hundred  strong,  under 
Major  House,  being  some  distance  in  advance,  dis- 
covered a  large  camp  of  not  less  than  four  hundred 
lodges.  A  courier  was  sent  in  all  haste  to  General 
Sully,  Major  House  and  his  command  watching  the 
Indians. 

General  Sully  reports,  "Starting  ofl"  with  the  Second 
Nebi*aska  on  the  right,  the  Sixth  Iowa  on  the  left,  one 
company  of  the  Seventh  Iowa  and  the  battery  in 
the  centre,  at  a  full  gallop,  we  made  the  distance  of 
over  ten  miles  in  much  less  than  an  hour." 

On  approaching  the  camp  General  Sully  found 
the  Indians  leaving  with  such  things  as  they  could 
carry.  The  troops  were  sent  to  the  right  and  left  at 
full  speed  with  order^  to  charge,  surround  and  drive 
the  Indians  to  their  camp,  in  the  hope  of  capturing 
all.  In  a  few  moments  the  whole  force  was  furiously 
engaged,  every  man  fighting  "  on  his  own  hook." 
In  every  direction  ,and  far  into  the  night  the  bat- 
tle raged. 


■.;*7v::'-H^-^ 


'*'}J!^'\-^;%^' ,^' 


1     ■  >  ■    .1 


AN   OLD-TIME   FIGHT. 


477 


I 


Fearing  the  most  serious  results  from  the  scatter- 
ing of  his  command,  the  general  "ordered  all  the 
buglers  to  sound  the  'rally,'  and  building  large 
fires,  remained  under  arms  all  night,  collecting  my 
men."  At  daylight  next  morning  it  was  discovered 
that  the  Indians  had  decamped,  leaving  their  dead 
and  wounded,  their  camps  and  property  of  all  kinds. 
"  The  camps  of  the  Indians  together  with  the  country 
all  around,  was  covered  with  their  plunder." 

This  was  the  most  severe  blow  that  the  Sioux  had 
ever  received.  They  lost  about  one  hundred  killed 
and  wounded,  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  prisoners, 
thirty-two  men,  and  one  hundred  and  twenty-four 
women  and  children,  three  hundred  lodges,  "  four  or 
five  hundred  thousand  pounds  of  dried  buffalo  meat," 
not  less  than  a  thousand  ponies,  and  "  a  very  large 
quantity  of  other  j^roperty  very  valuable  to  the  In- 
dians." General  Sully's  loss  was  twenty  killed  and 
thirty-eight  wounded. 

This  battle  is,  on  a  grand  scale,  a  most  admirable 
exemplification  of  the  usual  mode  and  general  results 
of  Indian  fights  in  "  the  good  old  days "  when  the 
troops  were  armed  with  rifle  and  revolver,  the  In- 
dians with  bows  or  old  smooth-bore  muskets,  down 
the  barrel  of  which  the  bullets  or  slugs  were  spit 
from  the  mouth.  Those  days  are  over.  An  oflicer 
who  would  now  attack  even  half  his  force  of  Indians 
with  troops  broken  or  scattered,  and  horses  pumped 
by  a  ten-mile  dash  at  full  speed,  would  be  very  soon 
sent  to  the  "  Happy  Hunting-grounds,"  with  all  his 
command. 


■^  m 


,<iiij'ff,'-iw 


,..'9MRntaHMWHBM,:a«HMOIM^'%^-UL' 


■V^f.'f^f'] 


\ 


h 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

ARMY   EXPERIENCES    OX   THE    FRONTIER  —  POWELL'S 
FIGHT  —  THE    HEROISM   OP   THIRTY-TWO   MEN. 

The  Pliil  Kearney  Massacre  —  Annihilation  of  the  Whites  —  Prepara- 
tions to  Strike  Back — Red  Cloud's  Resentment  —  War  to  the  Knife  — 
The  Situation  at  Fort  Phil  Kearney  —  Major  Powell  Ordered  to  Piney 
Island  —  Surrounded  by  Indians  —  Improvised  Defences  —  Iron  Walls 
and  Breecii-loaders  —  The  Heroism  of  Thirty-two  Men  —  Cool 
Heads,  Brave  Hearts,  and  Steady  Nerves  —  The  Carnival  of  Death  — 
Repulse  with  Desperate  Loss  —  Red  Cloud's  Consternation  —  The 
Bloodthirsty  Advance  —  Awaiting  the  Deadly  Onset  —  Heroic  De- 
fence of  the  Corral  —  Routed  and  Driven  Back — Recovering  the 
Wounded  —  Dragging  oflf  the  Dead  —  The  Gallant  Band  Relieved  — 
An  Old  Trapper's  Stoiy  of  the  Fight. 

)'N  the  21st  December,  1867,  occurred 
near  Fort  Phil.  Kearney  the  terrible 
battle  commonly  known  as  the  "Phil. 
Kearney  massacre,"  no  white  man 
being  left  to  tell  the  tale  of  unsuccessful 
heroism.  The  whites  were  annihilated, 
but  the  Indian  victory  of  overwhelming 
numbers  was  dearly  bought  by  a  loss 
in  killed  and  wounded  of  more  than 
four  times  the  number  of  their  gallant  adversaries.* 
The  news  of  this  terrible  disaster  sent  a  thrill  of 
horror  through  the  whole  country.  Active  measures 
were  at  once  taken  by  the  War  Department  to  wipe 

*  In  this  battle  the  Indians  had  not  only  the  advantage  of  overwhelming 
numbers,  but  many  of  them  were  ai'med  with  Spencer  and  AVinchester 
carbines.  Our  cavaliy  were  armed  with  the  Spencer  carbines  and 
revolvers,  but  the  infantry  had  only  the  muzzle-loading  rifled  musket. 

478 


l*>*tj<«J*.IM  I  *Ji 


:4w:"  i 


';:;-';^~ -.-Bit.'' 


EED   CLOUD. 


479 


out  this  blot  on  its  escutcheon  by  summary  punish- 
ment of  the  enemy.  Heavy  reinforcements  and 
ample  supplies  were  innnediately  ordered  to  the 
beleaguered  remnant  of  the  garrison  at  Fort  Phil. 
Kearney. 

But  just  here  came  in  the  hitch  absolutely  unavoid- 
able in  a  dual  government. 

The  War  Department  wants  peace,  and  thoroughly 
understanding  the  Indian  character,  knows  that  peace 
is  impossible  unless  compelled  by  fear.  The  Indian 
Department  wants  peace,  imf)elled  thereto  by  a 
humanitarianism  that  pays  best  in  times  of  peace. 
Having  ready  access  to  the  car  and  heart  of  every 
true  philanthropist  and  Christian,  who,  knowing 
Indian  wrongs,  would  gladly  right  them,  it  had  power 
sufficient  to  suspend  the  warlike  preparations  and 
send  out  a  commission  to  make  peace  with  the  enemy. 

After  great  difficulty  a  treaty  of  peace  was  con- 
cluded on  the  basis  of  the  abandonment  of  the  posts 
on  the  Montana  road,  and  great  store  of  presents  to 
the  Indians. 

As  might  naturally  have  been  anticipated,  the 
treaty  thus  concluded  suspended  hostilities  only  dur- 
ing the  time  it  was  in  f)rogress.  The  chiefs  who  had 
made  the  treaty  were  clonounced  by  their  followers 
in  unmeasured  terms. 

Red  Cloud,  until  this  time  a  sub-chief  of  no  special 
standing,  seized  the  opportunity  and  declared  war  to 
the  knife  against  the  white  man.  The  disaffected  of 
all  tribes  and  bands  flocked  to  him;  chiefs  even  of 
prominence  being,  in  order  to  retain  control  of  their 
bands,  obliged  to  acknowledge  his  leadership. 

Everywhere  harassing  trains  and  moving  columns, 
he  so  interrupted  communication,  and  was  so  uniformly 


.'^%A,.'\si 


ii0iim^e4i,.ii  rt«ii«;<(A,,-S!vi* .. 


"«  j;  •*«•».«-*»»,„» 


f'fi''W>9::-': 


^^I.'m-V<:^^ 


m^ 


's^~^f:-'^-'.yV-''^'i^.-'<^-'^^'''.''\^-^--- 


480 


MAJOR  POWELL. 


successful  in  his  attacks,  that,  eniholdened  by  success, 
he  determined  on  the  utter  destruction  of  the  j^ernia- 
nent  garrisons.  Fort  Phil.  Kearney,  having  already 
received  so  severe  a  blow,  was  selected  for  the  first 
effort.  Over  this  post  he  exercised  the  most  watch- 
ful guardianship.  !N^ot  a  stick  of  wood  or  load  of 
hay  could  be  cut  for  the  use  of  the  garrison  without 
the  chance  of  a  conflict. 

By  the  end  of  July,  1867,  he  had  collected  a  host 
of  not  less  than  three  thousand  fighting  men,  and 
Avitli  these  advanced  on  the  doomed  Fort,  so  confi- 
dent of  victory  that  he  was  accompanied  by  great 
numbers  of  wcnen  to  assist  in  carrying  off  the 
plunder. 

But  among  the  supplies  which  the  post  had  re- 
ceived during  the  temporary  suspension  of  hostiH- 
ties,  was  a  glorious  weapon,  never  before  in  tlic 
hands  of  our  infantry  soldiers,  the  breech-loading 
rifle-musket,  combining  extreme  long  range  and 
accuracy,  with  hitherto  unknown  rapidity  of  fire. 

On  the  31st  day  of  July,  1807,  in  obedience  to  an 
order  of  the  post  commandei*,  Captain  and  Brevet- 
Major  James  Powell,  Twenty-seventh  Infantry,  with 
his  company,  consisting  of  himself,  one  lieutenant,  and 
fifty-one  enlisted  men,  proceeded  to  a  place  called 
Piney  Island,  about  five  miles  from  Fort  Phil.  Kear- 
ney,* for  the  purpose  of  escorting  and  furnishing  de- 
tails to  protect  the  laboi'ing-parties  engaged  by  Con- 
tractor J.  R.  Porter,  in  hauling  fuel  to  the  post. 
"  Upon  my  arrival  at  the  above-named  place  I  found 
the  train  divided;  one  part  encamped  on  a  plateau,  and 
with  one  exception,  the  position  well  selected  for  de- 

*  The  words  of  this  narrative,  included  in  quotation  marks,  are  from 
official  reports. 


L 


m'JiS-t,'  -■■ 


^y{,7.'^-%*-'''^-'''-':''Jf"^'^''^t- 


'.^^^'■■■^"V.*^*.?'-?,; 


"■V1>«U.^;  :,Y,7ipr 


WAGON-BED   FORTIFICATION. 


481 


fence,  and  the  best  security  that  the  country  afforded 
for  the  stock;  the  other  part  was  encamped  about 
one  mile  distant  in  a  south-westerly  direction,  on  a 
commanding  point  across  the  Little  Piney  Creek,  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountains.  My  details  consisted  in 
sending  twelve  men  to  protect  the  working  parties  of 
both  trains,  and  thirteen  men  as  escort  to  the  trains 
when  coming  into  the  post." 

The  two  encampments,  while  greatly  facilitating 
the  labor  of  the  contractor,  seriously  complicated  the 
problem  of  defence  by  so  small  a  force.  Major 
Powell  wisely  concluded  to  attempt  the  defence  of 
but  the  one  on  the  plateau. 

"Wagon-bodies  of  boiler-iron  suffit^ntly  thick  to 
withstand  a  rifle-bullet  had  been  furnished  by  the 
Quartermaster's  Department  to  some  of  the  most  ex- 
posed frontier  posts.  I  cannot  assert  positively  that 
the  sixteen  wagon-bodies  forming  Major  Powell's 
defensive  work  Avere  of  iron,  but  the  disposition  made 
of  them  by  him,  and  the  statement  that  they  were 
"  loop-holed,"  is  sufficient  evidence  that  they  were  so. 
Indeed,  the  few  casualties  can  be  accounted  for  under 
no  other  hypothesis,  the  thin  sides  of  an  ordinary 
wooden  wagon-bed  offering  to  a  bullet  scarcely  more 
resistance  than  paper. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  fourteen  of  these  beds  were 
lifted  from  the  wheels  and  arranged  as  compactly  as 
possible  in  a  circle,  the  intervals  between  the  ends  of 
each  two  being  filled  with  ox-bows,  chains,  logs,  grain- 
sacks,  clothing,  anything  that  might  stop  a  bullet. 
That  side  of  this  fortified  corral  most  exposed  to  the 
assault  of  mounted  men,  was  further  strengthened 
by  two  such  beds  on  the  wheels,  placed  a  little  dis- 
tance in  front,  which,  while  permitting  the  defenders 


^f^i0MoSAiimiibmM^^>u^-t*s-j  «!«<««.»< ; 


.^4 


t- 


'":':'',^?iff 


i\r.*i,"*y^-.  '.yr—v .  ,>  J  _' 


■    ■    ;■  j_i        •-    ■    —'■:£'   .■■,  ■■ 
■T,7«> ;•'»-';  ^.-y-. -i^'-T  1  y."  :-f;''l'^''-V.*. 


482 


THE   ATTACK. 


to  fire  under  them  at  an  advancing  foe,  prevented  an 
assailant  from  dashing  in  on  horseback,  and  getting 
a  phmging  fire  into  the  wagon-beds  on  the  ground. 

Major  Powell  had  arms  and  ammunition  not  only 
for  his  company,  but  sufficient  to  supj)ly  all  the 
citizen-worlvmen  of  the  contractor,  and  all  were  laid 
out  ready  for  instant  use.  This  was  the  stronghold, 
the  citadel.  Here  the  guards  maintained  unceas- 
ing watch,  and  to  this  i)lace  of  security  every  man, 
soldier  or  workman  was  ordered  to  fly  in  case  of 
attack. 

"About  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  August 
2d,  1867,  two  hundred  Indians  attacked  the  herd- 
ers in  charge  of  the  herd,  driving  them  off;  at  the 
same  time  five  hundred  attacked  the  train  at  the  foot 
of  the  mountain,  driving  off  the  men  belonging'  there 
and  burning  it." 

This  attack  coming  suddenly,  and  as  it  Avere  from 
between  the  two  encampments,  drove  the  guards  and 
workmen  up  the  side  of  the  mountain,  effectively 
separating  them  from  Major  Powell  and  the  strong- 
hold. These  men  and  all  the  citizens  working  near 
the  corral,  except  four,  unable  to  comply  Avith  the 
orders  to  concentrate  on  Major  Powell,  took  to  their 
heels  and  made  their  way  back  to  the  fort,  losing  in 
this  manoeuvre  three  soldiers  and  several  citizens. 

All  the  attention  of  the  enemy  was  now  concen- 
trated upon  the  corral. 

In  the  mean  time  Major  Powell  had  completed  his 
arrangements  for  the  defence.  The  men  were  dis- 
tributed all  around  the  circle,  lying  down  in  the 
wagon-beds,  and  to  confuse  and  disconcert  the 
enemy,  these  beds  were  covered  with  blankets  ^hus 
entirely  concealing  the  defenders. 


1 


'.  *•  -.,  ;>'/T    ■V'--<" 


'»^^T^^'-'''"-'T' 


*j^^rfj^---ffvr" 


y-.'vr-j:  rt;r^-''f  .^-v  ;->^fl?i^-  r^j.'yfi^.iM'.?"',^^,*'  "r/""  T'*-r.';-'^y 


A  DISCOMFITED   HOST. 


483 


"Some  fifteen  minutes  afterwards,"  says  Major 
Powell,  "I  was  surrounded  by  about  eight  hun- 
dred mounted  Indians,  but,  owing  to  the  very  effect- 
ive fire  of  my  small  party,  they  were  driven  back 
with  considerable  loss." 

But  it  is  not  in  the  words  of  a  cold  and  almost 
unnaturally  modest  official  report  that  the  heroism  of 
these  thirty-two  men  can  be  described.  Two  offi- 
cers, twenty-six  private  soldiers  and  four  citizens, 
lay  quiet  in  their  improvised  defences,  awaiting  the 
onslaught  of  unknown  numbers  of  a  brave  and  mer- 
ciless foe,  with  perfect  certainty  that  nothing  but  a 
merciful  bullet,  or  their  own  cool  heads,  brave  hearts, 
and  steady  nerves,  stood  between  them  and  death  by 
the  most  exquisite  torture. 

Elsewhere,  I  have  stated  that  a  man  never  fights 
so  coolly  and  well  as  when  he  has  made  up  his  mind 
to  live  or  die  on  one  spot.  Major  Powell  and  his 
handful  of  noble  men  had  made  up  their  minds. 

With  a  contempt  of  their  adversaries  begot  of 
many  victories,  eight  hundred  magnificently  mounted 
warriors  dash  fearlessly  upon  their  apjiarently  insig- 
nificant foe.  Everywhere  they  are  met  with  bullets; 
the  leaders  fall,  others  take  their  places,  and  though 
they  ride  directly  on  to  the  defences,  they  can  get 
no  sight  of  the  defenders.  Nothing  is  to  be  seen 
but  the  blanket-covered  wagon-beds,  but  from  these 
comes  a  blaze  of  accurate  and  continuous  fire,  before 
which  the  bravest  and  best  go  down  until,  utterly 
amazed  and  discomfited,  the  broken  host  whirls  in 
confusion  to  the  hills. 

From  the  plateau  on  which  the  corral  was  located, 
the  ground  rises  gradually  in  every  direction,  culmi- 
nating, at  from  six  hundred  to  a  thousand  yards,  in 


iJw.'^rtii^.'Yai.''*'^:., 


W-?PS5.W!*«:"T''^''P' 


■'',■"' ."-  ~j;i''--r'T*;A»»^:f"^y-")Cfr-,';i;.7fi'.'"'-;:<'i'--'  'v 


484 


A  CLOUD  OF   SKIRMISHERS. 


low  hills.  During  the  conflict  this  magnificent  am- 
phitheatre was  crowded  with  spectators,  thousands 
of  Indians  swarming  into  view,  watching  the  combat 
with  the  greatest  interest. 

Astounded  and  ,  disconcerted  bj  the  unexpected 
and  incomi)rehensiblc  defeat  of  the  attack,  and  real- 
izing the  absolute  necessity  of  present  success  to  tlie 
hoped-for  final  issue  of  the  campaign,  lied  Cloud 
and  his  principal  chiefs  had  a  hurried  consultation, 
and  decided  on  an  immediate  attack  with  the  whole 
force  of  Indians  on  foot.* 

Indian  preparation  for  combat  consisting  in  simply 
stripping  himself  of  everything  except  his  arms  and 
ammunition,  the  arrangements  were  soon  comjilete. 
Many  of  the  warriors  who  were  armed  with  Spencer 
or  Winchester  carbines,  or  muskets  taken  in  the 
Phil.  Kearney  massacre,  were  sent  in  advance  as 
skirmishers  and  sharpshooters.  Crawling  along 
ravines  or  covering  themselves  with  shields  of  buf- 
falo hide  and  bunches  of  grass,  these  men  approached 
to  within  easy  range  and  opened  so  terrible  a  con- 
centric fii'c  upon  the  corral,  as  must  in  a  few  moments 
have  destroyed  the  defenders,  excei)t  on  the  hypoth- 
esis that  the  wagon-beds  were  bullet  proof. 

But  during  this  interval  Major  Powell  had  not 
been  idle.  His  Lieutenant,  Jenness,  gallantly,  and 
as  he  thought  necessarily,  exposing  himself  during 
the  first  attack,  had  been  killed;  one  or  two  men 
had  been  killed  or  wounded,  and  the  attack  had 
develoj)ed  certain  weak  points  of  his  defences,  which 

*  All  of  this  description  which  properly  belongs  to  the  Indian  side,  T 
obtiiined  from  a  Sioux  cliief,  who  was  severely  wounded  in  the  fight, 
and  from  other  warriors,  both  Sioux  and  Cheycnnes,  who  were  in  the 
battle. 


• 


"/fV^-  y^"*! 


•«.;^';^v  ^t 


."',';  ■■^?k"^;: 


THE   GRAND   ASSAULT. 


^5 


(Is 


were  promptly  strengthened  with  whatever  was  at 
hand.  The  firing  was  so  rapid  that  the  gun-barrels 
became  overheated;  spare  guns  were  placed  in  each 
wagon-bed.  Some  of  the  men  were  poor  shots  and 
fired  wildly;  they  were  ordered  not  to  fire,  but  to 
load  and  pass  guns  to  the  selected  marksmen. 

Before  the  crack  of  the  first  rifle  of  an  Indian 
sharpshooter  had  signalled  the  grand  attack,  Powell 
was  ready.  From  all  sides  these  sharpshooters  ap- 
proached, slowly,  covering  themselves  as  best  they 
could,  and  delivering  a  terrible  and  continuous  fire. 
When  they  had  arrived  within  easy  range,  the  de- 
fenders of  the  corral  opened  a  fire  so  searching  and 
accurate  that  further  advance  was  impossible. 

But  now  from  the  hills  swarmed  a  semicircle  of 
warriors  at  least  two  thousand  strong,  vnider  the 
leadership  of  the  gallant  young  nephew  of  Red 
Cloud,  anxious  to  signalize  his  valor,  and  to  win  the 
right  to  succeed  his  uncle  as  Head  chief.  "When 
within  about  five  hundred  yards,  the  order  to  charge 
was  given,  and  the  ^vhole  line  dashed  on  tc  the 
corral,  to  be,  when  they  had  almost  touched  it, 
hurled  back  in  confusion  and  dismay.  Again  and 
again  did  the  gallant  line  rally  and  charge,  only  to 
be  again  broken,  discomfited  and  driven  back;  and 
it  was  only  after  "  three  continuous  hours  "  of  almost 
superhuman  effort  against  this  unseen,  intangible 
foe,  that  the  line  became  utterly  demoralized,  and 
fled  in  consternation  to  the  hills. 

Red  Cloud  and  some  of  the  older  of  his  principal 
chiefs  had  watched  the  whole  action.  For  a  long 
time  they  thought  the  wonderfully  continuous  fire 
was  due  to  the  fact  that  there  were  more  men  in 
the  corral  than  it  would  appear  to  hold;   but  on  the 


-,;-  T'"    ./ffT, 


■■TV  >r--^- 


486 


REMOVING   THE   DEAD   AND   WOUNDED. 


final  repulse  of  the  long  succession  of  desperate 
charges,  they  coneluded  that  the  white  man  had 
made  some  "  medicine  guns "  which  would  "  fire  all 
the  time  "  without  the  aid  of  human  hands,  and  that 
their  best  plan  was  to  stop  the  conflict. 

When  the  demoralized  host  had  reached  the 
safety  of  the  hills,  they  were  ordered  not  to  fight 
any  more,  but  to  recover  the  bodies  of  the  killed 
and  wounded.  A  cloud  of  skirmishers  were  sent 
out  to  cover  this  operation,  with  oi'ders  to  keep  up  a 
continuous  fire.  All  the  killed  and  wounded  near- 
est the  hills  were  soon  taken  to  the  rear  and  cared 
for,  but  to  recover  those  nearer  to  the  corral  was 
exceedingly  difllcult  and  dangerous.  Takirig  one 
end  of  a  long  rope,  formed  by  tying  together  many 
lariats,  a  warrior  ran  out  into  the  open  as  far  as  he 
dared,  then  throwing  himself  on  the  ground  and 
covering  himself  with  a  shield  of  thick  buftalo  hide, 
he  crawled  to  the  nearest  dead  or  wounded  man 
and  fast(>ned  the  rope  around  his  ankles.  The  men 
in  the  woods  at  the  other  end  of  the  rope  then 
pulled  on  it,  and  dragged  the  man  or  body  to  a  safe 
place.  The  rescuing  warrior  then  crawled  back- 
ward, protected  by  his  shield. 

While  they  were  yet  i-emoving  their  dead  and 
wounded.  Major  Smith  arrived  on  the  battle-field 
with  reinforcements  from  the  fort. 

After  the  terrible  reverses  of  the  day,  the  Indians 
had   no  stomach   for   more   fighting.*     They  witli- 

*  In  his  report  Major  Powell  says  tliat  the  Indians  would  undoubt- 
edly have  tarried  his  position  and  massacred  liis  command  but  for  the 
timely  arrival  of  Major  Smith.  The  Indians  say  tiiat  thoy  wore 
already  thoroughly  beaten,  and  had  no  thoujrht  of  mal^inj?  another 
attack  on  the  corral.  A  fierce  fire  was  still  kept  up,  but  it  was  only  as 
cover,  under  which  they  could  carry  off  their  killed  and  wounded. 


-h 


^tr"'  ■"■ 


Vf-  ■, 


THE   MEDICINE   FIOIIT. 


487 


drew  into  the  woods.  Major  Smith  relieved  the 
gallant  garrison  of  the  corral  and  took  it  with  him 
back  to  the  Fort.  The  Indians  remained  a  day  or 
two  on  the  ground,  caring  for  their  wounded  and 
burying  their  dead;  then  returned  to  their  camp, 
dazed  and  overwhelmed.  Having  no  knowledge  of 
breech-loading  muskets  or  iron  wagon-beds,  they 
attributed  their  failure  to  the  direct  action  of  the 
Bad  God.  To  this  day  this  is  th  "Medicine  fight" 
of  the  Sioux  and  Cheyennes.  Tiicy  refer  to  it  in  tones 
of  awe  and  with  '^  bated  breath,"  as  they  speak  of 
the  occasional  terrible  visitations  of  cholera ;  a  some- 
thing incomprehensible;  a  horror  without  a  name. 

The  loss  of  troops  in  the  attack  on  the  corral  was 
one  officer  and  two  private  soldiers  killed  and  two 
private  soldiers  wounded.  The  Indian  loss  can 
never  be  positively  known.  Major  Smith's  relieving 
force  numbered  scarce  a  hundred  men ;  and  when  he 
saw  the  overwhelming  force  of  Indians,  he  readily 
comprehended,  not  only  that  it  was  suicidal  to 
attack  them,  but  that  discretion  and  good  soldier- 
ship required  him  to  retire  from  so  dangerous  a 
neighborhood  as  promptly  as  possible,  and  before 
the  Indians  should  recover  from  the  first  shock  of 
their  disaster.  Gathering  up  the  dead  and  wounded, 
the  arms  and  ammunition,  and  taking  the  little  band 
of  heroic  defenders,  he  left  for  the  Fort.  No  time 
was  taken  to  attempt  to  count  the  Indian  dead. 
Roughly  estimating  the  number  of  dead  bodies 
lying  immediately  around  the  corral.  Major  Powell 
oflficially  rejoorted  that  he  -thought  "there  were  not 
less  than  sixty  killed  and  one  hundred  and  twenty 
wounded."  This  was  an  excess  of  modesty,  every 
other  man  in  the  fight  estimating  the   nmnber  of 


■^i'i^^l'fJ^.l^X  rSt;  '■ 


•*'"»B!;??WfW.  ■rmptfff,-, 


'•f '..jU*  JW^i^tJ^.'-.Tvi  f 'f^vA '*''*■  *'.' 


488 


RELATIVE  LOSSES. 


ii    :;■/■ 


I 

I 


r 


i 


Indians  killed  at  between  three  and  four  hundred. 
"When  it  is  remembered  that  from  Major  Powell's 
own  statement  between  two  and  three  thousand 
Indians  charged,  and  continued  "to  charge  us  on 
foot  for  three  continuous  hours,"  that  in  these 
charge;?   the  Indians   approached   until  they   could 


almost   touch    the   defences 


that  during 


all    that 


time  the  loopholed  wagon-beds  were  a  blaze  of  con- 
tinuous fire  from  breech-loading  rifles,  even  the  last 
estimate  seems  too  small. 

The  wounded  Sioux  chief  who  visited  my  post  at 
North  Platte,  late  in  the  fall  of  1867,  told  me  that 
the  number  of  Indians  in  the  fight  was  over  three 
thousand,  and  that  a  prominent  "  medicine  man  "  of 
the  Sioux  had  told  him  that  the  total  loss  in  killed 
and  wounded  of  Indians  of  all  tribes  and  bands  in 
that  fight  was  ueven  hundred  and  thirty-seven.  If 
this  be  true,  the  combatants  were  as  one  white  to 
one  hundred  Indians;  the  losses,  one  white  to  two 
hundred  and  sixty-eight  Indians. 

It  is  like  a  story  of  the  time  of  Cortez. 

One  of  the  citizens  who  fought  with  Powell  was  a 
grizzled  old  trapper,  who  had  spent  his  life  on  the 
frontier,  and  been  in  Indian  fights  without  number. 
Some  months  after  the  battle,  the  Department  Com- 
mander met  and  questioned  him. 

"  How  many  Indians  were  in  the  attack,"  asked 
the  General. 

"  '^yall,  GinVl,  I  can't  say  for  sartin,  but  I  think 
thur  wus  nigh  onto  three  thousand  uv  'em." 

"  How  many  were  killed  and  wounded  V  " 

"  Wall,  Giii'r'I,  I  can't  say  for  sartin,  but  I  think 
thur  war  nigh  onto  a  thousand  ov  'em  hit." 

"How  many  did  you  kill  V  " 


S.'f'^l^.Ji^fSvT-'^";  •" 


;>-".,  ^-r.t- 


TRANSITION   FIGHT. 


489 


IS 


"  Wall,  Gin'r'l,  I  can't  say,  but  gi'-me  a  dead  rest, 
I  kin  hit  a  dollar  at  fifty  yards  every  time,  and  I  fired 
with  a  dead  rest  at  more'n  fifty  of  them  varmints  in- 
side of  fifty  yards." 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  how  many  times  did  you 
fire  V  "  exclaimed  the  astonished  General. 

"  Wall,  Gin'r'l,  I  can't  say,  but  I  kept  eight  guns 
pretty  well  het  up  for  mor'n  three  hours." 

l^o  such  fight  with  Indians  can  ever  again  occur. 
Even  before  this  time  the  Indians  had  breech-loaders, 
but  they  had  had  no  experience  of  the  terrible  destruc- 
tive power  of  these  weapons,  in  the  hands  of  cool  and 
determined  men  protected  by  breastworks.  At  the 
present  time  nothing  would  induce  even  a  hundred 
Indians  to  charge  three  or  four  whites,  though  ])vo- 
tected  only  by  a  slight  rifle-pit. 

This  may  be  called  a  "  transition  "  fight.  The  In- 
dian was  just  emerging  from  his  scarcely  dangerous 
days  of  bows  and  muzzle-loaders,  and  procuring  an 
arm  suited  to  his  mode  of  fighting,  becoming  what 
he  now  is,  the  finest  natural  soldier  in  the  world. 


*fv"i"R»".'*,;,V'-'n«^'.' 


^':'^^^yv^rf;pi^^;ns/i!;^fl^^  't-f:  H'■V:7^^^'if■■^-■^"^"■  ;;r?> 


..-^r  ",---■  ■  (V>'"^I''l'. 


'.r^;7-'ji:^'-%"»':t«,.V--i 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


GENERAL     MACKENZIE  S     FIGHT     WITH     THE      CHEY- 
ENNES  —  A  DESPEllATE   HAND   TO   HAND   COMBAT. 


Indian  Tactics  —  Surprises  and  Ambuscades — Attacking  Detachments 
in  Detail  —  Appalling  Massacres  —  Courage  and  Craft  —  Tiie  Night 
March  —  General  Crook's  Indian  Allies  —  Pursuit  of  Crazy  Horse  — 
His  Escape  —  Discovery  of  the  Cheyenne  Encampment  —  A  Night  of 
Horror  —  The  Surprise  at  Daybreak  —  Desperate  Attack  and  Re- 
sistance —  Hand  to  Hand  Combat  —  Death  of  Dull  Knife's  Favorite 
Son  —  Holding  the  Victors  at  Bay  —  Lieutenant  McKinney's  Splendid 
Dash  —  The  Dead  Hero  —  Reinforcements  Summoned  —  My  Com- 
mand Ordered  Forward  —  Our  Forced  March  in  the  Dead  of  Winter  — 
We  Lose  the  Trail  —  Sleeping  on  the  Snow  —  Flight  of  the  Indians  — 
Untold  Hardships  Endured  —  The  Fatal  Route. 

>IXCE  this  wonderful  and  most  memo- 
rable battle  v£  "  Piney  Island,"  or,  as 
it  is  known  to  the  a,rmy  "Powell's 
fight,"  the  conflicts  between  Indians 
^  and  United  States  troops  have  pre- 
sented a  remarkable  sameness.  The 
strength  of  the  Indian  is  in  surprises  or 
ambuscades,  and  I  have  heard  of  no 
single  instance  of  his  acceptance  of  battle 
in  the  open  field,  except  as  preliminary  to  some  huge 
trap,  or  when  relying  on  overwhelming  preponder- 
ance of  force.  His  tactics  are  always  the  same ;  never 
to  receive  a  charge,  but  by  constantly  breaking,  to 
separate  the  enemy  into  detached  fragments;  then 
suddenly  concentrating  to  overwhelm  these  in  detail. 
Having  no  trains  or  impediments  of  any  kind,  he  is 

490 


,% 


'~«SW«BB 


lij-.f' 


L^,.-'    I  ■ 


Y''3''/-7:^V^:''-'^'?'^n'y'i^^ 


SURPRISES. 


491 


n 


always  able  to  avoid  battle  if  the  ground  or  oppor- 
tunity does  not  suit  him.  The  heavier  slowly-moving 
troops,  encumbered  with  trains  of  supplies,  must 
attack  when  they  can,  and  therefore  almost  always  at 
disadvantage.  Since  the  common  use  of  breech- 
loaders by  both  combatants,  I  know  of  no  single  » 
instance  where  troops  have  gained  any  signal  advan- 
tage over  Indians  in  open  fight,  and  this  for  the 
reason  that  the  moment  they  gain  even  a  slight  ad- 
vantage, the  Indians  disappear  with  a  celerity  that 
defies  pursuit.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  Indians 
gain  the  advantage,  they  press  it  with  a  most  master- 
ful vigor,  and  there  results  a  massacre,  which,  like 
that  of  Custer's  command,  for  a  moment  appalls  the 
country. 

Fighting  under  these  tenlble  disadvantages,  the 
troops  have  learned  to  supplement  courage  with 
craft.  The  only  really  telling  blow  that  can  now  be 
struck  at  Indians  is  a  blow  at  their  encampment;  not 
that  many  are  killed,  but  that  to  save  their  lives  they 
are  obliged  to  abandon  their  teepes  and  property. 
At  present,  therefore,  a  campaign  against  hostile 
Indians  consists  in  warily  marching  into  their  terri- 
tory and  searching  in  every  direction  for  their  home 
encampment.  If  this  can  be  surprised  and  destroyed, 
the  Indians  soon  surrender,  even  though  they  may 
have  lost  few  warriors  killed  and  wounded. 

To  eifect  this  "  check-mate  "  it  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary that  the  Indians  should  be  entirely  i.  laware  of 
the  near  vicinity  of  the  troops,  and  that  all  movements 
be  made  with  the  greatest  care  and  circumspection; 
for  even  with  their  women  and  children,  teepes  and 
property,  Indians  can  usually  move  faster  than  troops 
can  follow.     This  entails  upon  the  troops  hardships 

81 


m^ 


492 


MACKENZIE. 


I 


and  privations  harassing  in  the  extreme.  Marches 
must  be  made  at  night;  fires  cannot  be  built  in  the 
day  time  for  fear  of  the  tell-tale  smoke,  and  in  the 
night  only  in  the  secluded  depths  of  thickets  and 
ravines,  and  then  but  for  time  sufficient  to  cook  the 
scanty  ration. 

Since  the  inauguration,  by  General  Crook,  of  the 
use  of  Indian  allies  in  Indian  warfare,  these  privations 
and  hardships  ai"e  materially  lessened.  Singly,  or  in 
bands  of  two,  three,  or  more,  these  sleuth-hounds 
scatter  far  and  wide,  miles  in  advance  and  on  the 
flanks  of  the  troops.  If  a  trail  or  other  indication  of 
hostiles  is  discovered,  report  is  sent  back  to  the  com- 
mander, and  the  troops  halted  until  the  scouts  can 
work  up  the  position  of  the  camp,  when  a  night  march 
is  made,  and  the  telling  blow  struck. 

In  a  work  of  this  kind,  I  am  not  expected  even  to 
give  the  names  of  the  almost  numberless,  desperate 
and  well-fought  battles  of  the  last  ten  years.  I  select 
for  illustration,  Mackenzie's  battle  with  the  Northern 
Cheyennes,  not  only  as  typical  of  the  present  state  of 
Indian  warfare,  but  because  with  little  loss  of  life  on 
either  side,  it  crushed  the  bravest  tribe  of  Indians  on 
this  continent. 

When,  in  1875,  the  Indian  Bureau  determined  to 
remove  all  the  so-called  Powder-River  Indians  to 
Reservations,  there  was  at  once  a  furor  of  excitement 
among  all  the  tribes  and  bands  interested.  Runners 
were  sent  from  band  to  band,  councils  were  held, 
and  it  was  determined  to  brave  the  whole  power  of 
the  United  States  rather  than  yield  their  independ- 
ence or  lose  their  beloved  hunting-grounds. 

In  these  councils  the  Cheyennes,  though  few  in 
numbers,  were  conspicuous  for  their  bitter  hostility, 


Marches 
ilt  ill  the 
^cl  in  the 
-kets  and 
cook  the 

>k,  of  the 
privations 
?l7,  or  in 
h-hounds 
I  on   the 
cation  of 
the  com- 
oiits  can 
ht  march 

even  to 
esperate 

I  select 
Northern 
state  of 
'  life  on 
iians  on 


m 


i,W 


'^, ':;'•;'/■ '-'i'lii;! 


ii/ 


■■••^•i'M'.lBi  ■«     'A    *?■■  ■  <>  '•>    1  .  ' 


'■'  ;^  .  ■■?♦&■{•;■•■■  -  '.,  tea 


<Vl>  iv  y.  -ji  ■■:  *   ,.■,  .  ;>>  ; 


,!y:6,»».,a- 


mm 


lined  to 
ians  to 
itement 
'Unners 
3  held, 
wer  of 
epend- 

few  in 
stility, 


,;y(j.s: 


111: ; 


'i  ;  ■  "I"  ,  ' 


'^  .-'1  A''' 


^^i: 


:  .•t. 


J*|i§:(,';aW^m^j^«j 


y«,r-,     '■•,;'<.;^   •..:,.,.■- 

I|.'  .■-.'■  ■■'..<.•;    ■,■■■■. 

■     V.      -\ .  ■,•,'  ''i'-    ','  ■'■■■■■•■■' 


■.*;! 


*  '  ... ^'»3!i-.. 'I-. litij.,/^  ;'.■!,>'.'  . -j*«i*;v .'^,A*i 


AllW(M^lMlNiMiiN  ,\  :[^    ..Ai^i  I  [V-f.j  CdNN 


^Jf^y-ff!:*" 


•(Yi. 


|- 


d 


\' 


i. 


i.'yxr<-xn' .     yi.'.\\chv. 


-J-.  i? '■•••v  ua     f     ■      h   ].  I*.-/   ■.t:'':  sal-'  u    I  U.  cuo)'.   ;;l"  :i 

Sine?   1!j,     ,;.iv;:^.i''"!;i>s<.vf!.,  hy-  fit  si^r.d    v.'r'0<ik,    ■!'  th»; 

;ii!d  harden:'.:,  M.    Miaiei-iaiiv  !«?'T.S',:;ii«''.      HuuHy,  o    'a, 

■f!!.i!i^.:^  «.  r  :|;e  h'Vip'-.  If  a,  rai;  '.H  'thrr  'i  ,{!  :u'  .  '.  of 
]i>  ■;!-'.  ■•.  i3  iU'<i.-v^-i  ;i.  n-pi'l'l  i;.  i-'-^lii  l)'U;lv  1  J  ■;,  ^  1  ilu- 
I '^MU^    ;,   ail'!    r.n'    ■.'.     ^j-,,    h.ilu :.;    v.w'v    'Uv  scL'i^f-i   :  :  ii 


1-  !ua.}'\ 


.i'>.-l    '.'J- 


U  Vt 


^ 


ji*. 


i: 


l;h!:: 


I.'  >  .--■   .'  -  ?' 


^M.Miivv  ^i   rtl 


J!^ri^ 


this  con'inoiit:. 

Wiien^  i'l    li7-'>.  i,ht.    ij;.ii ■!;►■;    '■ 


'Ul 


v 


■I',':    'h    ^■'"?;l^■:'d   to 


KcFervat'on^^,  Jht^'c  ',vas  .  i:  i  :■<:     v  ■•• 

rsmou|L^  ali  the  lri]iv>g  .url  bar.!. 

wcio  ?;ent.    {u.ui    I'luui    i^.>  b.iiv      '    :•■•;;:    n' .-re    he  Id, 

una  •!.  wtx"-  ("k.'t"  ■mined  to  l,s;:;*i?x-  r.b-'    ■•^  'uAv   povviu*  of 

tl.K;  ^  'litcHi   Si.a '"'ii  ratlior  ttuisff  ;di:l(I   •'vAv   iiuispcnd- 

cnce  ■  i;  lose  th<"''  lielowvi  ti^*'rti.v-:^f  >un<i'. 

In    hoHfe  uQUA'.ils  ih"   i  ,'•■(■•.>■  lies    ihongh  .'e\v  In 


t4    t  -M-  -.>-.•    .^-;  >  ...T*:     j^'.vfi:.  ■.'!■■,.■  ■-!-!.;.  V7^1^■-.-.^^.   ^TT.'  -■i*Jr'v^'>i^*i.\V:*"-.^,p'^y;r^>v,.-J--    ■  v. --S-':w:^.V^' ^  J'-IW*'^ 


;  ich;,.',- 

,i  III-' 
.>n.   ill 


n 


'  1 

•.  uli 

1.  :h: 

%   o 

u> 

\\<)([ 

:rls 

-Ml 

iho 

oL' 

:5ii- 

'  I   ^^ 

a 

h 

r  .   .  .■.j.....,.i;,'»^->»,  ,.  . 


AowoRinmniuN -H  en  "ARunHo  conn 


timm 


m 


m 


FIGHT  FIRE  WITH  FIRE. 


493 


and  for  their  expressed  determination  to  die  on  the 
field  of  battle  rather  than  surrender  a  single  foot  of 
their  lands.  A  coalition  was  formed  between  the 
Chcyennes  and  many  bands  of  the  great  Dakotah  or 
Sioux  nation.  Immense  camps  were  formed  for  drill 
and  mutual  protection. 

The  traders  of  the  Northern  frontier  were  over-run 
with  applications  for  the  best  arms  and  ammunition, 
and  so  determined  were  the  Indians  on  the  possession 
of  these  necessities  to  successful  warfare,  that  in 
many  instances  a  first-class,  well-tanned  buffalo  robe 
was  offered  in  barter  for  three  metallic  cartridges. 
At  such  prices,  they,  of  course,  very  soon  obtained 
a  supply  sufficiently  ample  to  carry  them  through 
several  campaigns. 

The  result  of  the  grand  Indian  combination  is  well 
known.  Battles  were  fought  whenever  the  Indians 
wished  to  fight.  A  few  small  bands  were  surprised 
and  defeated,  marches  and  counter-marches  were 
ma^l^,  great  hardships  endui'ed  by  the  ever  patient 
and  obedient  little  army,  but  though  two  arduous 
campaigns  had  been  made,  the  balance  of  practical 
advantage  was  rather  with  the  Indians. 

The  combination  failed,  not  from  the  valor  and  suf- 
ferings of  the  troops,  but  through  the  genius,  courage, 
and  persistency  of  one  man,  who,  having  learned  his 
lesson  in  the  hard  school  of  experience,  dared,  in 
spite  of  the  wails  of  humanitarians,  to  adopt  the 
Roman  method,  and  fight  fire  with  fire. 

The  Commander  of  the  Department  of  the  Platte 
enlisted  large  numbers  of  friendly  Indians,  and  placed 
them  under  the  command  of  white  officers.  These, 
acting  in  conjunction  with  the  troops,  so  beleaguered 
the  hostile  savages,  that  their  combination  was  soon 


'•  »  ; 


.'-.-.■.-*'  -.vAl,'  i'*;  _  i/"-;v:-*-,  r'.-"^  "'■•■..  J  vVit  .^.->5i 


.•V/-. 


V5''~ '^"'^"X'^' '■y'j'/-"ji ,'f*A^- -"^f  .'.r'-r^ /r,*", v^' y^ •■';  ;*.>■';  ; 


*l*^?^*'*f ""'  '77'^  rr^ 


■^  p,'  .*:-ry-'.*t /■,■''■ 


k,-.. 


'?,u;"V 


I 


^$f- 


»■*> 


491 


A  NIGHT   3IAECH. 


broken  up.  Sitting  Bull  retired  to  the  British  pos- 
sessions, the  Cheycnnes  to  thcii*  fastnesses  in  tlie 
foot-hills  of  the  Elk  Horn  mountains.  Ci'azy  IIoi-sc 
alone  maintained  his  ground  in  the  heart  of  the  Pow- 
der Kiyer  country. 

Late  in  the  fall  of  187G,  General  Crook  marched 
from  Fort  Fetterman  at  the  head  of  the  most  formi- 
dable force  that  has  been  sent  against  Indians  for 
many  years:  eleven  companies  of  cavalry  under 
Mackenzie ;  four  of  artillery  (ai*med  and  equipped  as 
infantry)  and  eleven  of  infantry,  under  my  command; 
and  three   hundred  and  fifty  })icked  Indians,   repre- 


senting no   less   than 
officers. 


five    tribes,    all    under   white 


His  objective  was  Crazy  Horse,  but  on 
reaching  the  Crazy  AYoman's  Fork  of  Powder  Kiver, 
it  was  learned  through  spies,  that  that  astute  chief- 
tain had,  either  through  prudence  or  sheer  good  luck, 
moved  his  camp  to  a  position  which  might  only  be 
surprised  by  a  long  retrograde  and  round-about 
march. 

The  Cheycnnes  were  known  to  be  somewhere  in 
the  foot-hills,  not  far  from  Crook's  position,  and  tliat 
General  turned  his  attention  to  them.  The  Indian 
allies  searched  assiduously  for  their  camp,  and  finally 
discovered  it  without  being  themselves  discovered. 
On  the  23d  November  Mackenzie,  with  seven  hun- 
dred picked  cavalry  and  the  whole  of  the  Indian 
allies,  marched  for  the  Cheyenne  camp.  On  the  2-11  h, 
being  within  striking  distance,  he  halted  to  wait  for 
cover  of  night.  Marching  again  after  dark  over  a 
country  incredibly  difficult  and  covered  with  snow, 
he  before  daylight  reached  a  point  fi'om  which  could 
distinctly  be  heard  the  tom-toms  and  shouts  of  the 
Indians,  who  were  indulging  in  a  grand  war-dance 


■'■i 


■■',rr-f   ■•■'-■      •■    ''.  , 


vi-'V', 


THE   CIIEYEXXE    CAJVIP. 


495 


in  honor  of  a  recent  successful  attack  on  a  small  party 
of  Crows.  Here  the  command  was  halted  to  await 
the  dawn. 

Imagine  the  scene! 

In  the  bottom  of  a  dark  and  narrow  gorge,  whose 
rocky  sides,  scarcely  dlstinguishal)le,  rose  sheer  and 
straight  a  thousand  feet  above;  underfoot  the  snow 
lay  piled  in  rifts  from  two  to  four  feet  deep;  the 
cold  was  intense;  no  fire  could  be  built,  and  per- 
fect silence  must  be  preserved;  the  worn-out  horses 
stood  with  heads  bowed  down,  too  tired  to  move;  the 
stealthy  change  of  position  or  quiet  shuffle  of  the  feet 
of  the  men,  just  enough  to  keep  from  freezing;  and 
from  the  distance  the  steady  beat  of  the  tom-tom,  and 
the  shouts  of  triumph  and  yells  of  defiance  of  the  un- 
suspecting enemy. 

Gradually  the  noises  of  the  Indian  camp  died  out, 
and  soon  after  faint  gray  streaks  in  the  east  heralded 
the  approach  of  dawn.  Silently  the  half-frozen  troops 
lift  their  stiffened  limbs  into  the  saddle,  and,  obedient 
to  the  sign  of  their  leader,  move  forward  to  the  attack. 

The  Cheyenne  camp  was  pitched  in  one  of  the  char- 
acteristic canons  of  the  foot-hills  of  the  Big  Horn 
Mountains.  A  narrow  gorge,  averaging  not  more 
than  seventy-five  yards  wide  at  bottom,  cleft  its  tor- 
tuous way  through  overhanging  cliffs  and  precipitous 
rocks,  whose  summits  were  more  than  a  thousand  feet 
above.  The  narrow  bottom  was  scored  by  a  ditch, 
which  passed  from  side  to  side  in  endless  convolu- 
tions, with  banks  everywhere  precipitous,  and  only 
passable  where  the  narrow  Indian  trail  had  worn  a 
difficult  pathway.  The  immediate  banks  of  the 
stream  supported  a  dense  thicket  of  willows,  but  in 
the  bends  were  narrow  open  spaces  in  every  way  just 


■-*t'Aji(iB5i-' 


■ '^w^xr-mi^'^m.m'^mmr 


■•f\  ir  •-"Ttvr 


, '•»  "',>■•  TT- 


■.J'-V  . 


496 


BRAVERY   OF   DULL   KNIFE. 


4  • 

i 


Buited  to  Indian  necessities.  Into  this  principal  caR- 
on  opened  innumerable  lateral  caflons,  some  longer, 
some  shorter,  with  precipitous  sides  of  height  equal 
to  that  of  the  main  gorge,  but  with  bottoms  bare  of 
timber  or  brush,  and  clothed  with  the  richest  grasses. 
These  served  as  great  natural  corrals  for  the  herds  of 
Indian  ponies.  For  three  miles  along  this  main 
gorge,  the  narrow  open  spaces  v»ere  occupied  by  the 
teepcs  of  the  Cheyennes. 

When  it  was  yet  barely  light  enough  to  see  the  situ- 
ation, the  Indian  allies  in  advance,  with  true  Indian 
whoops  and  yells  and  rattling  shots,  fell  upon  one  end 
of  this  long  village,  the  heavier  cavalry  following  at 
best  speed  to  consummate  the  victory.  At  the  first 
alarm,  most  of  the  Cheyennes,  springing  from  their 
beds,  and  seizing  their  arms,  had  rushed  to  cover 
amid  the  (to  white  man)  inaccessible  rocks  near  the 
tops  of  the  gorges.  Some  were  killed  as  they  ran, 
others  met  their  fate  in  attempting  to  defend  their 
lodges,  in  the  sides  of  which  they  slashed  great  holes, 
and  poured  forth  an  incessant  fire.  Dull  Knife,  the 
principal  chief,  sprung  to  his  arms,  and  calling  to  his 
followers  to  fight  out  the  battle  then  and  there,  opened 
a  rapid  and  effective  fire.  Nothing,  however,  could 
withstand  the  onset  of  the  United  States  forces. 
When  numbers  of  his  men  had  fallen,  and  his 
youngest  and  favorite  son  had  died  fighting  by  his 
side.  Dull  Knife  joined  his  flying  band,  and  took  ref- 
uge in  the  rocky  sides  of  the  cailon.  In  an  incred- 
ibly short  time  the  village  from  end  to  end  was  cleared 
of  its  inhabitants,  and  the  whole  camp  fully  in  posses- 
sion of  the  troops. 

But  now  came  the  tug  of  war.  Recovered  from 
their  first  stampede,  the  Cheyennes  occupied  every 


. 


s 


i-irSim;-i-- 


'■y 


"^  -Jr^  ^''r  ^    -V 


■■^«..: 


TO   THE   RESCXIE. 


497 


■■,::iy .  J<-ViiSi.- 


vantage-ground.  Every  roc"k  and  overhanging  height 
was  held  by  determined  warriors  who  poured  an  in- 
cessant fire  upon  the  troops  below.  In  vain  were 
brilliant  charges  made;  in  vain  the  gallant  McKiimey 
dashed  to  his  death ;  no  power  from  below  could  dis- 
lodge such  determined  fighters  from  such  a  position; 
and  it  soon  became  apparent  that  the  attacking  force, 
ten  hundred  and  fifty  strong,  was  powerless  against 
less  than  half  its  numbers  of  their  gallant  and  well 
posted  enemies. 

Strenuous  efforts  were  made  to  induce  the  Chey- 
cnnes  to  surrender,  but  every  proposition  was  met  by 
the  most  haughty  and  absolute  defiance. 

Recognizing  the  critical  nature  of  the  situation, 
Mackenzie  gave  orders  for  the  destruction  of  the 
camp,  and  under  a  galling  fire,  tcepes,  ))edding,  cloth- 
ing, buffalo  robes,  thousands  of  pounds  of  dried  buf- 
falo meat,  cooking  and  other  utensils,  spare  arms  and 
ammunition,  every  thing  was  given  to  the  flames. 
Disposition  was  then  made  to  protect  as  far  as  possi- 
ble the  troops  from  the  fire  which  incessantly  an- 
noyed them,  and  thus  the  day  wore  away. 

An  Indian  was  dispatched  to  General  Crook  with  a 
report  and  request  for  reinforcements.  Having  to 
follow  down  the  canon  for  many  miles,  this  runner 
did  not  reach  General  Crook  until  about  10  A.  M.  the 
next  day. 

My  command  was  immediately  ordered  to  the  res- 
cue, and  in  an  hour  we  were  on  the  march,  the  men 
vying  with  each  other  in  eagerness  to  succor  their 
comrades.  Though  the  ground  was  covered  with 
snow,  the  foot-hills,  twenty-six  miles  from  our  camp, 
were  reached  just  at  dark.  For  the  next  twelve  or 
fifteen  miles  the  scene  was  weird  and  wild  in  the 


?*  v:r^,'^t^.m!im?-^:^f:f^'^^^ 


498 


BEATEX   BY   COLD, 


extreme.  Guided  by  the  Indian,  the  command,  gener- 
ally in  single  rank,  and  following  an  old  Indian  ti'ail 
almost  obliterated  by  snow,  wound  its  slow  length  up 
and  down  the  sides  of  ahnciit  impassable  ravines. 
The  heavens  w^ere  overclouded,  the  only  light  being 
from  the  snow.  Now,  with  all  his  care,  a  man  would 
slip  and  go  plunging  off  into  the  darkness  of  a  ravine, 
now  half  a  company  would  slide  together  and  land  in 
one  promiscuous  mass  in  the  snow-drifts  below. 
Though  some  of  the  tumbles  were  nearly  a  hundred 
feet,  no  one  Avas  seriously  hurt,  and  though  the 
"Army  in  Flanders"  was  emulated,  the  conunand 
never  flagged. 

About  o  A.  M.  the  guide  lost  the  trail  in  the  deep 
snows  of  a  creek  bottom.  A  halt  was  ordered,  and 
in  half  an  hour  the  whole  command  except  the  guard, 
each  man  wrapped  in  his  blanket,  was  soundly  sleep- 
ing on  the  snow.  Just  at  dawn  the  trail  was  found, 
and  the  command,  springing  to  arms,  resumed  its 
march.  Soon  after  the  sun  had  made  its  appearance 
we  met  some  of  M.'ickcnzie's  advance  guards,  and 
found  that  all  our  labor  had  been  of  rio  rvail. 

Unfortunately,  the  preceding  night  had  been  in- 
tensely cold,  not  less  than  tvv'cnty  degrees  below  zero. 
Indians  when  in  camp^  and  unsuspicious  of  danger, 
habitually  sleep  naked.  The  Cheyennes  were  so,  and 
aroused  as  they  were,  had  no  time  to  clothe  them- 
selves; som^i  few  had  seized  a  blanket  or  robe  in  their 
flight,  but  the  large  majority  had  no  covering  Avhat- 
ever.  Human  nature  ^ould  nof  stand  it,  and  notwith- 
standing their  favorable  tacti'L-al  position,  they  were 
compelled  to  get  back  into  the  main  canon,  and  re- 
treat to  a  position  Avhere  they  could  build  fires  mid 
procure  food.     Collecting  their  herds  of  ponies,  they 


't 


>yf.^.1»>«:tt.';w 


;,*r|,-«i,«,VJ-T^- 


w 


^ 


•  f, ;:  ■  -■-. 


■I"    .  ■*>•*. 


TERRIBLE    SUrFERENG. 


499 


i 


left  during  the  night.  Early  next  morning  their  de- 
parture was  discovered,  but  Mackenzie's  attempt  at 
pursuit  was  frustrated  in  the  first  few  miles,  by  a 
strong  and  determined  rear-guai'd  posted  as  before  in 
the  rocks  and  summits  of  almost  inaccessible  cliffs. 

Our  loss  in  this  battle  was  one  officer  and  five  sol- 
diers killed,  twenty-five  soldiers  and  one  enlisted  In- 
dian wounded.  The  Cheyenne  loss  in  killed  and 
wounded  was  probably  about  fifty. 

Insignificant  as  it  appears,  this  battle  was  a  death- 
blow to  the  independence  of  a  tribe  of  men  as  brave 
as  ever  trod  the  soil  of  Greece.  The  sufferings  of 
these  Indians  during  the  three  months  succeeding  the 
battle  can  never  be  known,  lumbers  perished,  prin- 
cipally women  and  children.  With  no  food  but  the 
flesh  of  their  ponies,  no  covering  but  the  green  hides 
of  the  same  faithful  animals,  the  survivors  with  in- 
domitable determination  made  their  way  across  the 
bleak  and  snow-covered  sunnnits  of  the  Big  Horn 
Mountains,  and  after  a  long  and  most  terrible  march 
presented  themselves  to  Crazy  Horse,  then  encamped 
on  Mizpah  Creek. 

At  no  time  previous  had  the  Cheyennes  been  other- 
wise than  welcome  visitors  to  the  Sioux,  but  here  was 
a  band  of  near  fifteen  hundred  people,  absolutely  im- 
poverished, in  want  of  teepcs,  clothing,  food,  every- 
thing. The  warriors  still  possessed  their  gallant  r,pii 't, 
and  burned  for  an  opportunity  for  revenge  upon  their 
white  enemies,  but  their  arms  were  in  poor  condition, 
their  ammunition  expended.  It  was  too  great  a  tax 
on  the  Sioux  chieftain,  and  he  received  the  new  comers 
so  coldly  and  wnth  so  scant  a  charity  that  they  soon 
left  his  inhospitable  camp. 

They  had  not  been  defeated,  yet  they  had  received 


500 


THE   ESTEVITABLE. 


iP 


WV:^ 


a  blow  far  worse  than  a  bloody  defeat,  and  from 
which  it  would  take  years  to  recover.  Their  women 
were  suffering,  their  children  dying,  Crazy  Horse, 
their  last  hope,  had  failed  them.  Struggle  as  they 
might  their  fate  was  too  hard  for  them,  and  in  1877 
they  came  in  and  surrendered. 

One  cannot  but  feel  sympathy  for  any  people,  how- 
ever savage,  which,  after  displays  of  desperate  cour- 
age in  battle,  of  fortitude  under  untold  hardship  and 
misery,  is  forced  at  last  to  yield  to  the  inevitable. 


\ 


,  >;.»:'.'.  aii'i- 


£*.- 


■•itr,*'-v  ^n  'V'T*  i"ii-,«>;*a 


■  »■-;■■.;,"■-»  :^v^"y".>>-W'"-'V  v  '-^  >:'■:  ".^'fx''-' 


.~f,-    -VT, 


^t 


\ 


CHAPTER  XXXVm. 

WIXTER  ON  THE  PLAINS  —  ITS  DANGERS  AND  HAED- 
SIIIPS  —  INCIDENTS  AND  PERSONAL  EXPERIENCES. 

Difficulty  of  Sin-prising  Indians  —  Stai-vation  and  Cold  their  Worst 
Enemies  —  The  Remarkable  Winters  of  the  Plains  —  Piercing  Winds 
— Excessive  Cold  —  Certain  Death  to  Every  Exposed  Living  Thing 
—  Flying  to  Shelter  —  A  "Norther" — Terrible  Hardships  and  Suffer- 
ings of  Fifteen  Men  —  Braving  the  Dangers  of  the  Elements  — 
The  Pluck  of  Captain  Mix — Threats  of  Instant  Death  —  An  In- 
cident in  My  Own  Experience  —  Horses  Frozen  to  Death  —  A  Stir- 
ring Incident — Captain  Ileniy's  Experience  —  In  the  Teeth  of  a 
Furious  *'  Norther  "  — Wandering  Blindly  through  the  Snow  —  Horses 
Frantic  with  Cold  —  Hands  and  Faces  Frozen  —  Utter  Helplessness 
of  the  Party  —  Looking  Death  in  the  Face  —  The  Race  for  J  "fe. 

^UCir  are  the  only  really  hurtful  blows 
that  the  army  can  give  to  the  Indian. 
Surprise  is  absolutely  indispensable. 
During  all  the  months  of  tolerable 
weather  the  warriors  in  search  of 
game,  or  sent  out  as  scouts,  are 
scouring  all  the  country  for  many 
miles  about  the  camp;  a  force  of  troops 
can  come,  without  being  discovered,  to 
within  a  night's  forced  march,  only  by  the  merest 
accident  of  good  luck.  It  is  exceedingly  rare,  there- 
for©^ that  any  important  advantage  is  gained  by  a 
summer  campaign  against  Indians. 

In  winter  the  Plains  Indians,  who  are  very  suscep- 
tible to  cold,  remain  in  their  teepes  nearly  all  the  time, 
going  out  only  when   forced  to  do  so,  and  getting 

501 


■,i!':L  iJ-. 


^rrr^^'-    f   *^»f»'  f    }t''^  *■  '^-T 14 


'■j^  ^^'^,^^  -*  '■^''ff'r-wt'^v'-f^^  V  v,  T- 


"^^--i^  -f^"  *ir-i 


502 


VARIATION   LN^   CLIMATE. 


back  as  soon  as  possible  to  the  pleasant  warmth  of 
their  homes.  Their  ironies  are  wretchedly  poor,  and 
unable  to  bear  their  masters  on  any  extended  scout 
or  hunt.  They  are  in  the  very  best  possible  con- 
dition to  be  surprised,  and  even  to  those  who  escape 
bullets,  surprise  is  almost  destruction  from  starvation 
and  cold. 

Discipline,  Indian  allies,  surprise,  and  winter,  are 
the  powerful  auxiliaries  by  the  aid  of  Avhich  the  scan- 
ty force  of  United  States  troops  have  for  the  last  ten 
years  been  able  to  cope  successfully  with  a  greatly 
superior  numerical  force  of  an  enemy,  eqiudly  well 
armed,  and  infinitely  better  in  all  those  acquired 
traits  that  go  to  make  a  good  partisan  soldier. 

But  these  winter  campaigns,  so  terrible  to  tlie  In- 
dians, bring  to  the  soldiers  an  amount  of  privation, 
hardships  and  suffering  scarcely  to  be  comprehended 
by  persons  unfamiliar  with  the  peculiarities  of  the 
Plains  themselves. 

Extending  over  nineteen  degrees  of  latitude,  and 
varying  in  altitude  from  almost  the  sea-level  to  eight 
thousand  feet  above,  the  Plains  present  an  almost 
infinite  variation  of  climate;  and  besides  the  varia- 
tions due  to  latitude  and  altitude,  there  are  others 
resulting  from  the  absence  of  those  natural  i)r()tec- 
tors  of  the  earth's  surface,  trees,  and  from  the  aridity 
of  the  high  Plains. 

The  sunnner's  sun,  beating  down  through  the  thin 
atmosphere,  gives  a  temperature  that  would  be  de- 
structive to  life  in  more  humid  countries.  • 

The  winters  are  remarkable.  For  a  week  each 
day  will  be  clear  and  bright  as  a  mild  October  day  in 
the  East;  then  oftentimes  without  the  slightest  warn- 
ing, a  wind  will  come  from  the  north,  so  piercing 


'Wf^'i'^'iV''':'' 


;'?i«.n.i'~:"?i-v;,v-j7". 


^'W   <i^;i^*:?f~' 


THE   NOETHER. 


503 


lenjxth  of  time 


J. 


J, 


that  an  exposure  to  it  for  any  lengtn  oi  tnnc  is  cer- 
tain death  to  any  living  thing.  The  thermometer 
may  not  indicate  such  excessive  cold;  the  danger  is 
from  the  sharp  wind,  which  drives  the  cold  like  icy 
daggers  through  the  body,  and  penetrating  to  every 
part,  drags  out  the  vital  heat,  leaving  only  a  stif- 
fened corpse  of  him  who  is  so  unfortunate  as  to  be 
long  exposed  to  it.  But  this  danger  can  ahvays  be 
avoided  if  it  be  possible  to  get  out  of  the  wind.  A 
day  which  would  be  death  on  the  high  Plains  may 
fecarcely  be  uncomfortably  cold  in  a  thicket  at  the 
bottom  of  a  deep  narroAV  canon.  Indians,  plainsmen, 
and  all  indigenous  animals  understand  this  perfectly, 
and  fly  to  shelter  at  the  first  puff. 

"When  this  "  Xorther  "  is  accompanied  by  snow  it  is 
simply  indescribable;  worse  than  the  "  tourmente  "  of 
the  Alps.  The  deepest  canons  and  most  secluded 
thickets  often  afford  no  protection;  tents  are  blown 
down,  horses  stampeded,  fires  put  out,  and  the 
■wretched  sufferers  can  only  wi'ap  their  blankets 
about  them  and  bury  themselves  in  the  snow.  Such 
a  stoi'm  overtook  a  party  of  fifteen  men  on  Crooked 
Creek,  tAventy  miles  south  of  Fort  Dodge,  and 
though  there  were  no  resultant  deaths,  every  man 
lost  some  portion  of  his  body,  ears,  fingers,  toes, 
hands  or  feet.  The  post  surgeon,  Dr.  Tremaine, 
performed  seventy  capital  amputations  at  Fort  Dodge 
in  the  winter  of  1872-3,  one  poor  fellow  losing  both 
hands  and  both  feet. 

Fortunately  for  those  of  us  who  have  to  spend 
the  greater  part  of  our  lives  on  the  Plains,  only  a 
few  such  storms  may  be  expected  in  one  winter,  and 
they  generally  last  not  longer  than  three  days.  The 
army  suffers  greatly  from  these,  for  however  skilled 


r  ;rJ  .•nil.,''- 


r 


504 


A   TEKEIBLE   MARCH. 


ill  plains-craft  the  officers  and  men,  there  are  occa- 
sions when  movements  must  be  made  in  the  teeth 
of  whatever  difficulty  and  danger.  A  command 
may  be  overtaken  by  such  a  storm  when  rations  and 
forage  are  nearly  exhausted,  and  must  brave  the 
dangers  of  the  elements  to  escape  death  from  star- 
vation; or  the  storm,  coming  as  is  usual  without 
premonition,  may  overtake  a  command  at  a  distance 
from  friendly  ravines. 

When  in  command  of  Fort  Sedgwick  I  was  or- 
dered to  send  a  company  of  cavalry  on  important 
duty  to  the  Republican  River,  in  the  worst  month 
of  winter,  February.  The  country  between  that 
River  and  the  Platte  is  as  nearly  a  level  as  the 
plains  ever  are.  The  duty  was  performed  and  the 
company  returned  on  time,  but  this  was  owing  en- 
tirely to  the  pluck  and  will  of  the  captain.*  After 
getting  well  on  the  march  across  the  long  divide 
between  the  rivers,  the  command  was  met  by  a  most 
terrific  gale  and  blinding  snow-storm.  The  march 
was  due  north  in  the  very  teeth  of  the  gale.  The 
men  were  made  to  dismount  and  form  in  single  file, 
each  man  leading  his  horse.  The  leading  man  with 
head  bowed  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  a  compass  held 
in  his  hand,  broke  the  way  through  the  snow,  as 
long  as  he  could  endure,  then  giving  the  compass  , 
to  the  next  man,  fell  out  to  take  his  place  in  rear. 

The  cold  was  so  intense,  the  toil  so  great,  the 
suffering  so  intolerable,  that  some  of  the  men  re- 
fused to  do  more,  and  throwing  themselves  into  the 
snow  declared  their  determination  to  die  there  rather 
than  make  another  effort.  Orders,  entreaties,  even 
threats,  accompanied  by  the  presentation  of  a  cocked 

•  Captain  (now  Major)  John  Mix,  Second  Cavalry. 


■  X 


H 
M 

o 


-S 

r 
> 

73 


,  ft 

if  If'' 
ill 


V. 


5! 

O 


n 
» 


4?f«*?*?;!)i" 


i 


1 »  tf^  .'.r vr"  v- 'f " 


•^''-,irf:>'''>V 


,*m,\7.f .>-!*;;  ^r/- 


FROZEN   THERMOMETERS. 


5C7 


revolver,  proving  alike  unavailing,  the  captain  finally 
put  up  his  pistol,  and  falling  upon  them  with  the 
flat  of  his  sabre,  belabored  them  into  the  ranks,  and 
brought  all  in  safety  to  the  post. 

N^owhere  have  I  seen  suffering  more  cheerfully 
borne,  than  on  General  Crook's  winter  campaign  in 
1876.  For  two  months  the  ground  was  constantly 
covered  with  snow  from  two  or  three  to  fifteen 
inches  in  dejDth.  Often  our  only  fuel  was  a  scanty 
sujjply  of  green  sage-brush;  the  cold  was  always 
intense,  and  several  times  the  mercury  was  frozen  in 
the  bulbs  of  our  thermometers. 

"VVe  had  ample  experience  of  Arctic  phenomena, 
magnificent  Aurora  Borealis,  "sun-dogs,"  or  the 
appearance  of  five  suns,  and  the  beautiful  "bridal 
veil,"  every  particle  of  moisture  in  the  atmosphere 
being  congealed  in  tiny  particles,  so  that  when  the 
suns  shone  upon  it,  everything  was  seen  as  through 
a  silver  veil. 

One  day  on  the  Belle  Fourche,  when  on  the  re- 
turn march,  we  were  struck  by  a  storm  of  unusual 
severity.  General  Crook  hurried  us  into  camp, 
under  the  bluffs  and  in  the  thickets  of  a  small 
watercourse  which  was  fortunately  near,  and  under 
this  cover  we  passed  a  good  night.  At  daylight  in 
the  morning  the  wind  had  died  out,  but  the  ther- 
mometers were  all  frozen.  After  taking  my  break- 
fast, and  while  the  men  were  getting  ready  for  the 
march,  I  held  my  thermometer  near  the  fire  to  thaw 
it  out,  hoping  by  exposing  it  afterwards  to  arrive 
at  some  approximate  idea  of  the  cold.  I  kept  it 
there  until  the  mercury  was  above  freezing,  then 
hung  it  on  a  bush  near  by  and  watched  it.  Though 
the  sun  was  now  just  appearing  the  mercury  froze 


.is 


■t  ,1;,; 


:  '»MiT#(i'-i»)fc^'l*.!»'?-J'.'ji^;^A-.'i 


'T^W^'Ti^' 


508 


HOT,   THOUGH   COLD. 


h 


.-.fp. 


again  in  less  than  An'o  minutes.  ^lany  of  our  ani- 
mals, among  tlu-m  tlie  favorite  horse  of  (mo  of 
General  Crook's  stafl'-onieers,  froze  to  death  that 
night. 

Encumbered  Avith  all  the  wraps,  extra  clotliing, 
hoods  and  masks  tliat  our  "liglit  marching"  order 
permitted,  we  broke  camp  and  marched  merrily 
along,  admiring  the  five  suns,  and  the  curiously 
broken  features  of  the  countr'  as  seen  through  the 
"veil."  The  morning  was  beautiful,  the  air  perfectly 
calm.  By  nine  A.  M.  my  mask  and  hood  l)('caine 
uncomfortable  ;  the  first  was  taken  off,  the  other  ex- 
changed for  a  light  felt  hat.  By  ten  my  overcoat 
was  tied  behind  my  saddle.  At  eleven  I  stripped 
coat  and  thick  gloves,  and  was  yet  too  warm. 
Turning  to  the  surgeon,*  who  was  riding  beside  mo 
nt  the  head  of  the  column,  I  exclaimed  against  the 
weather: 

"  This  is  a  terrible  change,  I  fear  it  will  affect  the 
health  of  the  men!  " 

Thrusting  his  hand  into  his  breast-pocket  the 
do(Moi'  drew  out  a  thermometer,  and  rode  for  some 
distance  dangling  it  by  its  ring  on  his  bare  finger, 
and  occasionally  looking  at  it.     At  last  he  said: 

"  Colone''  I  don't  think  the  heat  will  affect  the 
health  of  the  men.  It  is  now  eight  degrees  below 
zero." 

A  beautiful  incident  showing  the  esprit  of  our 
soldiers  occurred  on  the  same  campaign.  One 
morning  on  the  northward  march  we  broke  camp 
on  Wind  River.  The  day  was  cold  but  clear,  and 
many  of  the  men  had  packed  their  overcoats  on  the 
wajrons.     "When  we   had  just  gotten  fairly  out  of 

*  Dr.  Ousley,  Acting  Assistant-Surgeon,  U.  S.  A. 


■*  T',"V^''T-''''''^i;»'*' 


V*""  "''IP^'B'.'* 


■■'\'-i'7' 


»V'  ■'•  .:7,;;,v-iii- 


'.'.;^w, 


CAPTAIN   henry's   MARCH. 


609 


reach  of  the  wagons,  there  burst  in  our  faces  a  ter- 
rible gale  of  wind  and  snow,  so  fierce  as  almost  to 
stagger  the  colunm.  AVith  heads  boAvcd  down,  the 
men  trudged  manfully  along,  the  officers  watching 
closely,  and  every  few  moments  ordering  some  man 
to  rub  his  cheek  or  nose  with  snow.  In  half  an  hour 
the  gale  subsided,  and  though  the  snow  still  fell,  the 
cold  was  no  longer  dangerous.  Just  at  this  moment 
some  glorious  fellow  in  the  ranks  broke  out  in  a 
sweet  but  manly  voice  with  "Marching  through 
Georgia."  In  an  instant  the  strain  was  taken  up, 
and  the  suffering  of  the  previous  half  hour  cast  to 
the  winds  on  the  breath  of  five  hundred  lusty 
throats. 

On  December  26th,  1874,  Captain  Guy  V.  Henry, 
in  command  of  his  Company  "  D  "  Third  Cavalry,  left 
its  camp  at  Red  Cloud  Agency,  pursuant  to  an  order 
of  the  AYar  Department  to  proceed  to  the  Black 
Hills,  and  remove  some  miners  reported  to  be  there 
in  violation  of  treaties.  The  Black  Hills  country 
was  then  almost  entirely  unknown.  Warren  had 
skirted  it,  Harney  had  passed  near  but  to  the  south- 
ward of  it,  and  Custer  had  dashed  with  his  usual 
impetuosity  directly  through  it,  but  to  Captain 
Henry  and  his  command,  it  was  entirely  unknown. 
On  the  second  day  he  arrived  at  the  Spotted  Tail 
Agency,  where  he  expected  to  secure  the  services 
of  an  Indian  guide.  The  cold  was  so  intense  that 
the  Indian  refused  to  go,  and  a  white  man  named 
Raymond  was  employed.  He  knew  nothing  of  the 
country,  but  was  an  "  old  frontiersman,  "  supposed  to 
be  entirely  capable  of  going  anywhere,  and  equal 
to  every  emergency.  The  march  was  made,  no 
miners   found,  and   the  command   had   returned  to 

32 


^rr 


i,'u,y  r. 


r 


610 


A  KACE   FOIi  LIFE. 


P' 


within  one  clay's  journey  of  Its  post,  having  been  out 
two  weeks,  and  travelled  over  thiee  hundred  miles, 
without  serious  ineonvenienee,  exeept  from  the  in- 
tense cold,  the  thermometer  ranging  IVom  20"  to  40° 
below  zero. 

About  seven  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  this  last 
day  when  the  command  had  gotten  well  started  on  its 
march,  it  was  struck  by  a  most  furious  ''Xorther" 
" cutting  Hke  a  lazor."  So  inten.se  was  the  cold  that 
the  men  were  dismounted  to  prevent  fi'cezing.  The 
trail  was  soon  obliterated,  and  wandering  blindly 
through  the  drifting  snoAv,  holding  with  difHculty 
the  almost  frantic  horses,  the  unhapj)y  command 
struggled  on.  With  hands  and  faces  frozen,  with 
noses  and  ears  bleeding,  with  eyes  absolutely  sight- 
less from  the  constant  pelting  of  the  frozen  particles, 
the  weaker  men  began  to  fall  exhausted,  willing  to 
die  rather  than  make  further  effort.  These  were 
strapped  on  their  horses,  and  the  command  pushed 
on,  not  a  hill  or  ravine  or  clump  of  trees  to  give 
even  the  most  partial  shelter. 

Every  moment  but  added  to  the  helplessness  of 
the  party.  Recognizing  the  certainty  of  the  speedy 
destruction  of  the  whole  command,  if  the  march 
were  thus  continued,  Captain  Henry  in  desperation 
gave  the  order  to  "  mount,"  and  when  all  had  with 
difficulty  dragged  themselves  into  their  saddles, 
"  forward,  gallop !  " 

"We  all  knew,"  said  Captain  Henry,  "that  this 
was  a  race  for  life ;  we  were  helpless ;  neither  brain 
nor  eye  would  longer  serve  us;  the  instinct  of  our 
horses  could  alone  sav  ?.  those  of  us  who  could  hold 
out." 

Seeming  to  recognize  the  necessity  of  extra  ex- 


r-'^iJ^TT  i-^.*** 


SAVED. 


611 


ertion  and  Intelligence,  the  stiffened  horses  swept 
forward,  even  those  whose  poAverless  riders  were 
strapped  upon  them  keeping  in  or  near  the  ranks. 
Succor  came  at  last  most  unexpectedly.  The  lead- 
ing horses  dashed  up  to  a  little  cabin  in  the  Avilder- 
ness,  half  burled  in  snow,  and  of  the  existence  of 
which  not  one  of  the  command  had  any  previous 
knowledge.  The  white  owner  and  his  squaw  wife 
received  most  hospitably  their  half-frozen  visitors. 
The  horses  were  turned  into  the  corral,  those  run- 
ning loose  with  powerless  riders  being  soon  caught 
and  relieved  of  their  inanimate  burdens.  The  men 
were  crowded  into  the  little  hovel,  and  every  atten- 
tion and  care  bestowed  upon  them. 

When  the  storm  abated  an  Indian  was  sent  to  the 
post,  fifteen  miles  away,  whence  wagons  and  ambu- 
lances were  sent  to  transport  those  who  were  unable 
to  ride.  There  were  no  deaths,  but  not  one  of  forty- 
five  officers  and  men  escaped  without  the  loss  of,  or 
serious  injuries  to,  some  portion  of  his  person.  To 
this  day  many  of  those  men  are  maimed  and  suffer- 
mg  from  the  effects  of  this  "  frontier  experience." 

But  for  the  providential  discovery  of  this  little 
unknown  cabin  of  a  "  squaw  man,"  the  whole  party 
must  have  perished  miserably. 

Not  a  winter  passes,  but  scores  its  mark  upon  the 
army,  in  the  shape  of  dead  or  maimed  victims. 

Ye,  in  power,  who  sit  on  cushioned  chairs  in  com- 
fortable offices,  take  these  lessons  to  heart;  think 
mercifully  of  the  sufferings  of  those  who  are  ordered 
to  brave  the  dangers  of  a  winter  campaign  on  the 
Plains,  and  be  always  assured  that  there  is,  for  such 
orders,  an  urgent  necessity. 


ex- 


ft«rtV. 


iT^^^tmmmimsi^ 


r^. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

TAKING   THE    SCALP  —  HOW  AXD   WHY   IT  IS   DONE  — 
THRILLING   INCIDENTS. 

The  Indian  Custom  of  Taking  tho  Scalp- -Orig-in  of  tho  Praoticfi-  • 
Wliat  Bocomes  of  tlio  Scjvlps  —  Sfrange  Siiporstition  attached  to  them 
—  The  Head  Cliief  of  the  Pawnees  Paj-s  mo  a  Visit —  Ho  Discloses 
a  Pfesiily  Taken  Scalp  —  A  strange  Performance  —  How  tho  Paw- 
nee Wear  theh'  Hair — Custom  of  the  Clieyennes,  Airapahoes, 
Kiowas  and  Comanches  —  How  tho  Scalp  is  Taken  —  DiiVerent  ways 
of  Doing  it  —  Taking  the  Ears  with  it — AVhat  I  saw  in  an  Indian 
Camp- Why  Colored  Soldiers  arc  never  Scali)cd^ — jMntilalion  of  the 
Body — Why  Concrid  Custer's  Body  was  not  Scalped  —  Sam  Cliorry 
the  0".id(!  —  A  Thrilling  Incident —  Fears  for  his  Safety  —  Working 
Out  the  Story  of  the  Tragedy  —  His  Last  Shot. 

^^IIE  origin  of  tlie  Indian  custom  of 
Ify'"  talcing  the  scalps  of  their  sUiin  enemies 
Li*5/2  seems  to  be  lost  in  obscurity.  *  Else- 
where I  have  spoken  of  the  religious 
belief  that  the  act  of  scalping  annihi- 
lates the  soul,  but  while  the  practice  is 
common  to  all  the  tribes  east  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  the  l>elief  seems  to 
be  confined  tc  a  comparatively  few  of  the 
Plains  tribes.  Moreover,  while  the  practice  con- 
tinues in  full  favoi',  the  belief  itself,  like  very  many 
other  of  their  ancient  points  of  faith,  is  fast  losing  its 
hold  over  the  mir  =  •)  of  the  red  men. 

I  have  been  tola  by  old  men  of  the  Cheyenne  and 

*  The  hooks  of  the  Maccabees,  in  speaking  of  tho  atrocities  and 
cruelties  practised  on  tho  Jews  by  tho  Syrian  monarch  Antiochus  the 
Great,  state  that  "  tile  skin  was  torn  from  the  head."  Scalping  would 
seem  therefore  to  'nave  been  a  Syrian,  and  probably  a  Jewish  custftni, 
and  may  bo  anrrther  evidence  of  the  identity  of  the  Indians  witli  the  lost 
tribes  of  Israel. 

612 


■; 


--4 


■n.-*r<J 


'^mfffimw^j'riimfP 


USE  OF  SCALPS. 


513 


Arranalioc  tribes,  that  many  years  ago  the  belief  in 
the  auuihihition  of  the  soul  by  scalping  the  head  was 
common  to  all  the  Indians  between  the  Mississippi 
River  and  the  Kocky  Mountains,  and  that  the  custom 
originated  in  the  desire  o?  each  warrior  to  lessen  in 
this  life,  as  much  as  possible,  his  chances  of  being 
annoyed  by  enemies  in  the  future  life. 

The  Indian  beliefs  and  superstitions  are  so  vague, 
so  individual  (each  man  while  following  the  general 
creed,  working  in  details  to  suit  his  own  taste),  and 
have  moreover  been  so  curiously  confused  by,  and 
with,  the  teachings  of  missionaries,  that  I  much  doubt 
if  it  be  possible  at  the  present  day  to  arrive  with  any 
certainty  at  any  original  Indian  faith. 

The  practice  most  likely  originated  in  the  necessity 
of  furnishing  sonu'thing  as  a  proof  of  deeds  of  valor, 
and  to  prevent  fraudulent  or  conflicting  claims.  At 
the  })rescnt  day  among  the  Plains  tribes,  a  scalp  is  of 
far  more  importance  than  merely  to  minister  to  the 
pride  and  vanity  of  the  taker. 

Scalps  taken  by  an  individual  in  fair  single  combat 
or  by  assassination  are  his  personal  property,  but,  of 
the  scalps  of  enemies  killed  in  battle,  a  certain  i)ortion 
is  set  aside.  Of  these  a  percentage  goes  to  the 
chief,  whether  he  was  in  the  battle  or  not.  Others 
are  dedicated  to  the  good  God,  and  hung  up  in  the 
"  Medicine  Lodge,"  sacred  from  the  touch  of  any  but 
the  "  medicine  chief."  Others  arc  reserved,  to  be 
danced  ovei",  on  the  return  of  the  war  party  to  its 
village.  After  this  ceremony  they  arc  returned  to 
the  warriors  who  took  tliem. 

A  strong  flavor  of  religious  superstition  attaches  !  "> 
a  scalp,  and  njany  solemn  contracts  and  binding  obli- 
gations can  only  be  made  over  or  by  means  of  a  scai^. 


1 


a 


I 

r. 


514 


BROTHERHOOD. 


It  was  1  solemn  day  on  Crazy  Womaii's  Ibrk  of 
Powder  ^^iver.  On  the  preceding-  day  Mackenzie 
had  returned  from  liis  successful  fight  with  the 
Northern  Chcyennes,  but  bringing  witii  him  a  train 
of  travois,  each  bearing  its  burden  of  dead  or  wounded 
humanity.  To-day  the  whole  command  had  turned 
)ut  to  do  honor  to  the  galhint  dead,  and  i)erform  for 
them  our  last  duties.  They  had  been  laid  away  side 
by  side  in  a  little  valley.  ]N^o  stone  marked  tlu'ir 
resting-])lace,  lor  that  would  insure  desecration  by 
our  enemies  as  soon  as  we  iiad  left  the  vicinity. 

I  was  sitting  in  my  tent,  musing  in  a  somewhat 
Boftened  mood  over  these  violent  tlealhs  and  lonely 
burials  in  this  far-away  wilderness,  when  the  front  of 
my  tent  A\as  pulled  aside,  and  the  acting  head  chief 
of  the  Pawnees  stalked  in,  gravely  and  without  a 
word.  We  had  long  been  friends,  and  had  on  several 
occasions  Ix^en  in  tight  places  together. 

lie  sat  down  on  the  side  of  my  bed,  looked  at  me 
for  a  moment  kindly,  but  solennily,  and  began  in  a 
low  tone  to  mutter  in  his  own  language,  half  chant, 
half  recitative.  Knowing  that  he  was  making 
"medicine'"'  of  some  kind,  I  looked  on  without  com- 
ment. After  some  moments,  he  stood  erect  and 
stretched  out  his  hand  to  me.  I  gave  him  my  hand. 
He  pulled  me  into  a  standing  position,  embraced  me, 
passed  his  hands  lightly  over  my  head,  face,  aims, 
body,  and  legs  to  my  feet,  nnittering  all  the  while, 
embraced  me  again,  then  turned  his  back  upon  me 
and  with  his  face  turned  towards  Heaven,  appeared 
to  make  adoi'ation.  He  then  turned  to  embrace  and 
manipulate  me  again. 

After  some  five  minutes  of  this  licrformance,  he 
drew  fioni  his  wallet  a  package,  and   nnroUing   it, 


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Objects  or  Interest  and  Curiosity. 


PM'V0GP4'^"fr'    iNO    PAINUD    FRr-M    T^F    ORIGINAL   OB'fCT:,    EXPRESS'.''   ""O^ 


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ON    a,  <  t»       f  ni.iHHK  HA     Ham  I  »  •  iH  < 


.■T?:-?<<'<"T(.-  .>;<"tf. 


SCALP  LOCKS. 


515 


disclosed  the  freshly  talcen  scalp  of  an  Indian. 
Touching  me  with  this  in  various  places  and  ways,  he 
finally  drew  out  his  knife,  divided  the  scalp  carefully 
along  the  part  of  the  hair,  and  handing  me  one  half, 
embraced  me  again,  kissing  me  on  the  forehead. 
"  Now, "  said  he  in  English,  "  you  are  my  brother.  " 

lie  subsequently  informed  mo  that  this  ceremony 
could  not  have  been  performed  without  the  scalp. 

The  Indians  of  different  tribes  wear  their  hair  in 
different  styles,  and  scalps  are  therefore  cut  off  in 
different  ways.  The  wari'iors  of  the  Eastern  States 
wore  their  hair  short,  with  the  exception  of  a  lock, 
some  two  or  three  inches  in  diameter,  covering  the 
centre  of  the  head.  This  was  allowed  to  grow,  and 
was  braided  or  tied  up  with  feathers  or  porcupine 
quills  to  keep  it  upright,  a  standing  defiance  to 
their  enemy. 

The  Pawnees  used  to  clip  the  hair  on  each  side  of 
the  head,  leaving  a  I'oach  or  mane  of  some  three 
inches  in  length,  running  from  front  to  rear  over  the 
centre  of  the  head.  Just  on  the  crown,  the  scalp- 
lock  was  cultivated  to  great  length.  This  peculiar 
head-di'css  gave  a  most  ferocious  n})pearanee,  but  was 
so  marked  that  it  was  abandoned  even  before  the 
Pawnees  became  "  good  Indians,'"  their  peculiar 
appearance  at  once  fixing  upon  them  any  depieda- 
tion. 

All  the  Plains  tribes  wear  the  hair  long.  The 
Sioux,  Crows,  Winnebagoes,  part  their  hair  in  the 
middle,  carrying  the  mass  into  two  tails,  one  on  each 
side  of  the  head.  The  hair  covei'ing  a  space  of  about 
two  inches  in  diameter  just  over  the  crown,  is  sep- 
arated from  these  tails  and  i)laited  by  the  Sioux 
into  one  to  three,  by  the  Winnebagoes,  into  six  or 


■'' , — 


:    i 


i 


516 


HAIR   COVERED    SKIN. 


seven,  little  iiulepciulent  tails  which  form  the  sealp- 
lock.  In  all  these  tribes,  the  scalp  is  removed  by 
cutting  only  the  skin  on  which  the  scaljj-lock  grows. 

The  Cheyennes  and  Ariapahoes  part  their  hair  in 
the  middle,  wearing  it  in  two  long  tails  one  on  each 
side  of  the  head.  Tiie  Kiowas  also  part  the  hair  in 
the  middle,  but  wear  only  one  long  tail,  that  on  the 
left  side  of  the  head.  The  hair  growing  on  the  right 
side  of  the  head  is  cut  a  little  below  the  ear  and 
woi'u  loose.  The  Comanches  comb  the  hair  back 
from  the  forehead  and  plait  it  behind  in  one  long  tail, 
^one  of  these?  Indians  wear  scal[)-locks. 

In  scalping  an  Indian  who  wears  no  scalp-loclc,  a 
handful  of  hair  is  grasped  on  any  part  of  the  head 
and  the  knife  passed  beneath. 

Only  one  scal[)  can  be  taken  from  the  head  of  an 
Indian  who  wears  a  scalp-lock,  for  it  nuist  show  the 
crown  of  the  head,  while  an  Indian  who  wears  no 
scalp-lock  may  furnish  enongh  tufts  of  hair-covered 
skin  to  enable  each,  buck  of  a  small  party  to  furnish 
evidence  that  he  has  killed  his  man. 

If  time  and  o[)i)ort unity  be  given,  every  Indian,  in 
taking  a  scalp,  will  carefully  I'cmove  every  })ortion  of 
the  skin  covered  with  hair  in  one  piece,  in  nuuiy  cases 
taking  the  ears  with  it. 

Some  special  value  or  "medicine"  virtue  seems  to 
be  attached  to  hair-covered  skin.  The  Indian  has  no 
hail'  on  his  face  or  j)crson,  and  consequently  scalps 
only  the  head  of  other  Indians.  The  full-bearded 
white  olfers  pcculiai-  attractions  to  the  scalper.  Every 
]>ortion  of  skin  to  which  hair  is  attached,  even  to  the 
miinW  bit  uiuh  r  the  ai-ms,  is  skinned  oif.  I  once  saw, 
111  an  Indian  camp,  a  scalj)  consisting  of  the  entire 
ttkin  of  hea<l,  face,  and    body  to  the  crotch,  in  one 


I 

I 


BUFFALO  SOLDIER  NO  GOOD. 


;i7 


piece.  It  was  tliicldy  covered  witli  hair,  had  heen 
carefully  cured,  aud  peculiar  value  was  set  upon  it  as 
"  bi<^  medicine." 

It  luis  been  asserted  by  some  writers  that  scali)ing 
is  universal  amon*;'  Indians.  This  is  an  error.  It  is 
an  eastern  custom.  West  of  the  Kocky  Mountain 
chain  it  is  not  habitually  practised  l)y  the  Indians. 
Occasionally  a  man  may  be  scalped,  but  it  api)eai's  to 
be  an  individual  exception,  a  simple  copying  of  what 
is  known  to  be;  the  custom  amonii:  Eastern  Indians;  or 
what  is  more  probable,  it  results  from  the  imitative 
faculty  of  the  Indian,  who  does  that  which  he  sees  a 
white  man  do;  for  I  regret  to  be  obliged  to  admit  that 
the  majority  of  white  men  on  tlit;  frontier  are  as 
prompt  to  take  a  scalp  as  any  Indian. 

Even  by  those  tribes  by  which  scalps  are  most 
highly  prized,  the  scalp  of  a  dead  enemy  is  not  always 
taken.  The  reason  is  wrapped  in  their  snjierstitions. 
Kvan  though  an  Indian  may  have  so  far  progi'essed 
in  religion  as  no  longer  to  believe  that  the  innnoilal- 
ity  of  the  soul  depends  on  the  final  position  of  the 
scalp,  he  cannot  so  discard  his  early  impressions  as  to 
be  entirely  careless  of  his  action  when  a  scalp  is  in- 
volved. Whether  or  not  its  removal  annihilates  the 
soul,  he  is  yet  sure  that  a  scalp  is  strong  "medicine," 
and  equally  sure  that  its  taking  by  him  will  involve 
consequences  to  him,  either  very  good  or  very  bad, 
and  he  does  not  always  know  which.  An  Indian  will 
never  take  the  scalp  of  a  colored  soldier,  nor  does  he 
give  any  reason  for  it;  all  to  be  got  out  of  him  by 
way  of  explanation  is,  "Buffalo  soldier  no  good,  heap 
bad  medicine." 

Many  yet  believe  that,  if  not  scalped,  the  soul  of  the 
dead  enemy  will  bear  in  the  future  state  all  the  muti- 


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h 


;,-■■ 


518 


MUTILATION   OF   BODIES. 


lations  and  indignities  inflicted  on  tlie  body.  When 
therefore  so  exasperated  as  to  be  willing  to  exchange 
the  gratification  of  vanity  for  a  surfeit  of  vengeance, 
the  Indian  leaves  the  scalp  on  the  head,  but  muti- 
lates the  body,  as  he  wishes  the  soul  mutilated  to  all 
eternity.  Suicide,  though  not  common  amoug  Indians, 
is  "big  medicine";  a  high  religious  act.  Through  it 
the  man  rises  superior  to  his  gods.  Whatever  the 
special  religious  opinion  of  each  Indian  in  regai'd  to 
the  taking  of  the  scalps  of  slain  enemies,  I  have 
never  yet  known  a  single  case  where  the  scalp  of  a 
suicide  was  stripped  off,  and  in  many  cases  the  super- 
stition is  so  strong  as  to  prevent  the  Indians  even 
from  touching  the  body.  If  an  unseal  ped  bod}'  is 
found  wilh  many  terrible  wounds,  gashed  and  nuiti- 
lated,  it  was  the  deliberate  purpose  of  the  Indians  to 
torment  the  soul;  if  it  be  found  unmutilated  with  but 
one  mortal  wound,  it  is  a  case  of  suicide. 

Though  the  bodies  of  all  of  Major  Elliott's  little 
l)arty  were  subjected  to  the  usual  horrible  nuitilations 
and  bai'barities,  only  four  or  five  of  the  least  noted 
were  scalped.  So  also  in  every  Indian  massacre,  mnti- 
hitions  of  the  body  are  almost  the  rule,  but  many  of 
the  bodies  will  be  found  unscalped. 

It  is  said  that  Custer's  body  was  found  unseal [)ed 
and  unnuitilated.  If  so,  my  knowledge  of  Indians 
convinces  me  that  he  died  by  his  own  hand. 

In  October,  18,>5,  the  post  of  Fort  Davis,  Texas,  was 
established  by  the  Head  Quarters  and  six  companies 
of  the  Eighth  United  States  Infantry.  I  was  the 
adjutant,  but  the  quarter-master  being  absent,  his 
duties  devolved  upon  me.  The  site  chosen  being  four 
or  five  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  the 
winter  weather  was  expected  to  be  severe,  and  we  im- 


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SERGEANT  LOVE's   PABTY. 


521 


mediately  busied  ourselves  with  preparations  for  such 
shelter  as  short  time  and  scant  materials  would  allow 
us  to  build. 

I  was  ordered  by  the  commanding  officer  to  take  the 
guide,  Sam  Cherry,  and  an  escort  of  one  non-commis- 
sioned officer  and  three  privates,  and,  starting  imme- 
diately after  guard-mounting  each  morning,  to  scour 
the  country,  as  far  as  I  could  go  and  return  the  same 
day,  in  search  of  timber  suitable  for  saw-logs. 

From  about  the  10th  to  the  30th  of  October  I  had 
thus  been  out,  taking  a  different  route  each  day. 
Signs  of  Indians  had  occasionally  been  seen,  but  not 
in  large  parties.  These  made  us  more  careful,  but 
caused  no  uneasiness. 

After  I  had  reported  to  the  commanding  officer 
after  dark  on  the  30th,  I  asked:  — 

**Colonel,  shall  I  go  out  to-morrow,  as  usual?" 

"Why  not?"  he  replied. 

"It  is  muster-day,  and  I  thought  you  might  need 
me." 

"  Of  course,  I  will.  I  had  forgotten  about  muster. 
Detail  a  good  sergeant  to  take  your  party  to-morrow, 
and  instruct  him  where  you  propose  to  go." 

The  detail  was  made.  Sergeant  Love  of  Company  G 
taking  my  place.  That  night  the  party  did  not  re- 
turn. Next  morning  early  the  wagon-master  of  a 
train  came  in  to  the  post  greatly  excited,  and  reported 
that  the  dead  body  of  a  man  and  horse  had  been 
found  in  the  road  about  six  miles  from  the  post.  A 
company  of  infantry  was  immediately  ordered  out, 
and  proceeding  to  the  spot  found  the  body  of  Sam 
Cherry,  pinned  fast  to  the  ground  by  the  dead  body 
of  his  horse.  The  search  was  continued,  and  in  a  lat- 
eral caRon  were  found  the  bodies  of  Sergeant  Love  and 


\!»\ 


,^\  ■ 


■  ■*■■' 


J^  ^iL-^l^.. 


'■■*  ■■■ 

r 


'.■'■y^»'. 

f 


522 


SAM   cherry's  last  SHOT. 


the  three  privates  riddled  with  bullets,  mutilated  and 
disfigured,  but  giving  every  evidence  of  having  sold 
their  lives  as  brave  men  should.  The  trails  were  ex- 
amined and  the  whole  story  worked  out.  The  party  had 
travelled  along  the  road  nearly  to  the  entrance  of  the 
canon  of  the  Limpia,  known  as  the  "Wild  Rose  Pass," 
when  suddenly  about  thirty  mounted  Indians  dashed 
from  the  bushes  along  the  stream,  cutting  it  off  from 
retreat  towards  the  Fort,  and  driving  it  up  the  lateral 
canon.  Suspecting  a  trap,  Sam  Cherry  suddenly 
turned,  dashed  through  the  line  of  Indians,  I'ogained 
the  I'oad,  and  ran  for  life,  away  from  the  Fort,  fol- 
lowed by  a  number  of  yelling  savages.  lie  was  evi- 
dently doing  well,  when  his  horse  stumbled  and  fell, 
b:  ^aking  his  neck,  and  pinning  Sam's  leg  to  the 
ground.  In  an  instant  he  was  surrounded  by  the 
exultant  Indians. 

Raising  himself  slightly,  Sam  fired  five  shots  at  his 
enemies,  then  turning  the  muzzle  against  his  own 
temple,  he  escaped  the  tortures  of  their  vindictive 
rage  by  his  "last  shot."  The  baffled  and  terrified 
Indians  went  away  as  fast  as  their  ponies  could  carry 
them,  not  touching  the  body,  not  even  taking  the 
arms. 


— •^:Ji. 


■i^l>^-*>IS* 


CHAPTER  XL. 


PRISONERS  AMONG  INDIANS  —  VICTIMS  FOR  THE  TOR- 
TURE—  CAPTIVE   WOMEN    AND   CHILDREN. 


Certain  Fate  of  Captives — Held  only  for  Tortm-e  —  Savaj^e  Instincts  — 
Delight  in  tiie  Agonies  of  his  Enemy  —  Torture  by  Fire  —  Terrible 
Fate  of  a  Little  Drummer  Boy  —  Human  Fiends  —  Tied  to  a  Tree  — 
'  Setting  Fire  to  Pine  Knots  Stuck  in  His  Body  —  Sufferings  of  the 
Poor  Boy  —  Death's  Relief—  "  Staked  Out "  —  Devilisli  Ingenuity  — 
Horrible  Brutality  —  Building  a  Fire  on  the  Breast  of  Living  Vietims 

—  Female  Captives  —  A  Fate  worse  tiian  Death  —  Unliappy  Slaves 

—  A  Favorite  Stake  at  the  Gambling-Board  —  Passing  from  Hand  to 
Hand  —  A  dozen  Owners  in  a  Single  Day  —  A  Terrible  Situation  — 
Giving  up  Prisoners  —  Experiences  of  Tiu-ee  White  Women  Captives 

—  A  Story  of  Horrors  —  Captive  Children  —  Their  Fate. 

IIE  Plains  Indians  never  make  captives 
of  men.     I  have   never  known  of    a 
single   instance,  and  if   I   have    ever 
heard  of  one,  I   do   not    recollect  it. 
Wounded  and   disarmed  men  are  fre- 
quently taken  prisoners,  but   they  are 
held  only  for  torture.    Their  doom  is 
certain,  and,  but  for  the  horrible  suflfer- 
ings  they  are  yet  to  undergo,  they  may  be 
regarded  as  already  dead. 

This  is  an  unusual  phase  of  barbarism,  except 
among  cannibals.  Even  the  most  primitive  man,  of 
whom  we  have  account,  found  a  better  use  for  his 
enemy  than  to  kill  him,  and  the  history  of  mankind 
shows  that  the  murder  of  prisoners  is  the  exception 

623 


'FT 


?  ;^ir  ■  •w■^^'^■;• 


>'■:  *vj-',7.:,:.^7,v-: 


r^'i^ri^t'*-; 


624 


TORTURE   BY  FIRE. 


I  f  ' 


and  not  the  rule.  It  also  shows  that  these  wholesale 
murders  arc  usually  done  in  the  name  of  religion. 
The  primitive  Hebrew,  following  his  faith,  murdered 
without  regard  to  age,  sex,  or  condition.  The  Indian 
furnishes  another  link  in  the  chain  of  evidence  that 
he  is  a  descendant  of  the  "Lost  Tribes,"  by  doing  the 
same  thing. 

The  Indian  does  not,  however,  claim  to  do  murder 
in  the  name  of  his  religion.  He  does  it  because  he 
likes  it;  because  his  savage  instincts  and  vindictive 
temper  impel  him  to  it.  His  wives  are  his  slaves ;  he 
needs  no  others,  and  the  only  satisfactory  use  to 
which  he  can  put  the  male  enemy  that  falls  into  his 
hands,  is  the  gratification  of  that  temper  by  witness- 
ing the  agonies  of  his  enemy  while  undergoing  the 
torture. 

A  ceremonial  torture  by  fire  is  very  unusual. 
Though  so  common  among  the  tribes  east  of  the 
Mississippi  I  doubt  if  it  were  ever  practised  (as  a 
ceremony)  by  tribes  west  of  that  stream. 

It  is  not  at  all  unusual  for  a  war  party  to  "vent  its 
spleen"  by  building  a  fire  on  the  breast  of  a  prisoner 
"staked  out"  on  the  ground,  but  in  all  my  long  ser- 
vice on  the  frontier,  and  experience  among  Indians, 
I  have  never  known  or  heard  of  any  case  where  a 
prisoner  was  formally  tied  to  a  stake  and  burned  as  a 
ceremony. 

In  the  last  chapter  I  gave  an  account  of  the  fate 
of  Sergeant  Love  and  party.  One  of  that  party 
was  a  little  drummer-boy  of  about  twelve  years  of 
age.  He  had  been  sick,  and  was  yet  reported  "in 
hospital,"  but,  being  nearly  well  and  thinking  he 
would  not  be  missed,  he  slipped  away  from  the 
hospital,  borrowed  a  pony  from  one  of  the  herders, 


--^^. 


:..-Ai:L.yi^. 


■i>ff>''.V 


A  HOlilllBLE   DEATH. 


525 


and  joined  Sergeant  Love's  party,  for  a  day's  boyish 
frolic. 

When  the  party  was  overwhelmed  this  boy  was 
captured  and  taken  to  the  Indian  camp,  and,  speaking 
Spanish  with  tolerable  fluency,  was  questioned  at 
length  by  the  captors,  the  interpreter  being  a  Mexican 
boy  captured  some  years  before,  and  from  whom  I 
afterwards  learned  the  following  particulars.  The 
boy's  answers  to  them  proving  to  the  Indians  that 
their  scheme  of  attacking  the  post  was  sure  to  lead  to 
disaster  to  them,  they  became  very  angry  and  turned 
him  over  to  the  squaws.  These  fiends  in  human 
shape  stripped  and  tied  him  to  a  tree,  and  for  some 
hours  tormented  him  in  every  way  their  ingenuity 
could  devise  without  endangering  life.  Becoming 
tired  of  this,  they  procured  some  "fat"*  pine  knots, 
and  splitting  them  into  small  splinters,  stuck  them 
into  the  skin  until  the  unfortunate  boy  bristled  like 
a  porcupine.  They  then  set  fire  to  the  splinters, 
and  danced  and  yelled  with  delight  when  the  poor 
boy  cried  and  screamed  with  anguish.  When  the 
fire  burned  out  they  left  him  tied  to  the  tree,  ex- 
posed naked  to  the  cold  of  that  elevated  region. 
Next  morning  he  was  tied,  nearly  dead,  on  a  horse, 
and  carried  with  the  party,  but  after  going  about 
ten  miles  was  found  to  be  dead.  He  was  then 
scalped,  and  his  body  flung  among  some  rocks, 
where  it  was  afterwards  found  by  troops  sent  in 
pursuit. 

The  Indian  is  thoroughly  skilled  in  all  methods  of 
torture,  and  well  knows  that  that  by  fire  is  the  most 
exquisite  if  it  can  only  be  prolonged.  He  therefore 
frequently  resorts  to  it  when  time  and  opportunities 

*  A  term  applied  to  wood  very  rich  in  resinous  ni?  ttec 


h>,  .'J, 


n 


y     ! 


n. : 


I 


■"P«l!||||i|piivwpfi^ip>i^^^pi^n^Hnip 


^mm 


•  ',U  ■"*'  V  ^T'-%'*^,".^^ 


626 


STAKED  OUT. 


serve.  The  victim  is  "staked  out,"*  pleasantly  talked 
to.  It  is  all  the  best  kind  of  joke.  Then  a  small  fire 
is  built  near  one  of  his  feet.  When  that  is  so  cooked 
as  to  have  little  sensation,  another  fire  is  built  near  the 
other  foot;  then  the  legs  and  arms  and  body,  until  the 
whole  person  has  been  crisped.  Finally,  a  small  fire 
is  built  on  the  naked  breast,  and  kept  up  until  life  is 
extinct. 

This  extreme  refinement  of  cruelty  only  occurs 
when  the  Indians  are  in  specially  good  humor,  and 
there  is  plenty  of  time  and  no  danger.  The  temper 
of  the  Indian  is  so  ungoverned  that  he  can  only  be 
perfectly  cruel  when  not  angry,  and  if  the  victim 
knows  enough  of  his  character  and  language  to  taunt 
him  into  anger,  he  will  probably  be  promptly  dis- 
patched. The  nature  and  extent  of  all  tortures  de- 
pend upon  the  time,  the  materials  at  hand,  and  the 
temper  in  which  the  Indian  happens  to  be. 

In  1868  an  attack  was  made  by  a  party  of  Indians 
on  a  station  of  the  Kansas  Pacific  Railroad.  The 
men  who  were  on  herd  were  made  prisoners  almost 
without  resistance.  The  other  two  or  three  success- 
fully defended  their  position,  to  the  great  exaspera- 
tion of  the  red-skins,  who,  after  losing  several  men, 
drew  off. 

Just  at  nightfall  they  took  their  prisoners  to  a  posi- 
tion in  plain  view,  but  beyond  rifie  range  of  the  sta- 
tion, stripped  them  of  their  clothing,  "staked"  them 
to  the  ground,  built  a  fire  on  the  breast  of  each,  and 
while  some  sat  near  warming  themselves  with  great 
apparent  satisfaction,  the  others  indulged  in  a  dance 

*  Tha  man  is  laid  on  his  back  on  tlio  ground;  liis  arms  and  legs, 
stretched  to  the  uttermost,  are  fastened  by  ropes  to  pins  driven  into  the 
ground.    The  victim  is  not  only  helpless,  but  almost  motionless. 


,.'-<(^4Lk^lA^:.«>k(^- 


'.liIljr.^Jki'tri^'i*^<>.U'^w 


'  ■»,*-. -^I,,;., 


"  ,-      "9 


> 


71 

I 


7) 

b 


v.'  , 


'-/-■".■<wV--,  .rjy,-     * 


IF'    ^    'X'        —J 


""         .1  -T-    ■>•   -     V"*'  -''•> 


"^-yv'7  i-^'    1. 


P^l 


"WOMEN  PRISOXEHS. 


529 


of  rejoicing.  The  cries  and  groans  of  the  unfortu- 
nate men  could  be  plainly  heard  by  their  friends,  but 
nothing  could  be  done,  and  it  was  not  until  far  in  the 
night  that  the  cessation  of  complaint  proved  that  life 
was  extinct.  Next  morning  the  Indians  were  gone, 
but  the  blackened  and  half-burned  bodies  were  found 
still  listened  to  the  ground,  not  only  scalped,  but  ter- 
ribly mutilated,  and  one,  being  an  unusually  hairy 
man,  almost  skinned. 

The  fiite  of  the  wounded  man  who  falls  into  the 
hands  of  the  Indians  depends  very  much  on  circum- 
stances. In  a  close  contest,  or  if  the  Indians  have 
cause  to  be  exceptionally  angry,  the  wounded  man  is 
promptly  dispatched.  If  there  be  plenty  of  time  and 
no  danger  apprehended,  the  unfortunate  prisoner  will 
have  full  experience  of  the  ingenuity  in  torture  of 
these  fiends.  I  have  beer»  told  by  Indians  that  noiie 
of  the  soldiers  slain  in  either  the  Fort  Phil  Kearney 
or  the  Custer  massacre  were  tortured.  "The  Indians 
were  too  mad"  and  killed  them  as  soon  as  possible. 

Cooper,  and  some  other  novelists,  knew  nothing  of 
Indian  character  and  customs  when  they  placed  their 
heroines  prisoners  in  their  hands.  I  believe  I  am  per- 
fectly safe  in  the  assertion  that  there  is  not  a  single 
wild  tribe  of  Indians  in  all  the  wide  territory  of  the 
United  States  which  does  not  regard  the  person  of 
the  female  captive  as  the  inherent  right  of  the  captor; 
and  I  venture  to  assert  further  that,  with  the  single 
exception  of  the  lady  captured  by  the  !Nez  Perces, 
under  Joseph,  in  Yellowstone  Park,  no  woman  has,  in 
the  last  thirty  years,  been  taken  prisoner  by  any  wild 
Indians  who  did  not,  as  soon  after  as  practicable,  be- 
come a  victim  to  the  brutality  of  every  one  of  the 
party  of  her  captors. 

33 


?-\' 

;.'/:'' 


530 


FEMALE    SLAVES. 


t  !l 


When  a  woman  is  captured  by  a  party,  she  belongs 
equally  to  each  and  all,  so  long  as  the  party  is  out. 
When  it  returns  to  the  home  encam])ment,  she  may  be 
abandoned  for  a  few  days  to  the  brutality  of  the  men, 
and  delight  of  the  women,  who  torment  her  in  every 
conceivable  way;  after  which  she  becomes  the  exclu- 
sive property  of  the  individual  who  captured  her. 
In  some  instances  he  takes  her  to  wife,  and  she  has 
protection,  as  such;  but  in  the  very  large  majority  of 
cases  she  is  held  by  him  as  a  slave,  for  the  vilest  pur- 
poses, being  sold  by  her  owner  to  any  one  who  wants 
her.  In  nearly  all  the  tribes  there  are  more  or  less 
of  these  slaves. 

The  life  of  such  a  woman  is  miserable  beyond  ex- 
pression, the  squaws  forcing  her  to  constant  labor, 
and  beating  her  on  any,  or  without,  provocation. 
She,  however,  fares  and  lodges  exactly  as  the  other 
members  of  the  family  of  her  owner,  attends  the 
dances,  and  is  in  no  way  socially  ostracized.  She 
brings  her  owner  more  or  less  revenue,  dependent  on 
her  beauty;  and,  as  i)roperty,  is  worth  quite  as  much 
as  an  equally  good-looking  girl  of  virtue.  She  is  a 
favorite  stake  at  the  gambling-board,  and  may  change 
masters  half  a  dozen  times  a  day,  as  varies  the  for- 
tune of  the  game;  passing  from  hand  to  hand;  one 
day  the  property  of  the  chief,  the  next  day,  of  a  com- 
mon warrior.  No  discredit  attaches  to  the  ownership 
or  farming  out  of  these  unhapi)y  slaves. 

Indians  always  prefer  to  capture  rather  than  to  kill 
women,  they  being  merchar.tablc  property.  White 
women  are  unusually  valuable,  one  moderately  good- 
looking  being  worth  as  many  ponies  as  would  buy 
from  their  fathers  three  or  four  Indian  girls. 

White  women   are   especially  valuable   when  the 


HORRORS   OP   CATTIVITY. 


631 


tribe  gets  tired  of  fighting  and  wants  to  make  peace. 
A  runner  is  sent  to  the  agency,  with  an  intimation  of 
a  desire  for  peace,  and  a  willingness  to  bring  in  white 
captives.  The  Indians  take  great  credit  to  them- 
selves for  bringing  in  these  women,  invariably  de- 
manding a  large  price,  which  the  government  equally 
invariably  pays. 

This  is  right,  of  course,  no  amount  of  money  being 
too  great  to  weigh  against  the  delivery  of  a  woman 
from  the  horror  of  such  a  situation.  If  after  redeem- 
ing the  captives,  the  government  would  properly  pun- 
ish the  Indians,  these  horrors  might  be  stopped;  but 
so  long  as  we  strive  to  convince  them  by  our  actions 
and  words,  that  we  believe  them  to  be  thoroughly 
good  fellows  in  giving  up  the  prisoners,  just  so  long 
will  they  strive  to  deserve  cur  commendation  by  cap- 
turing and  delivering  up  others. 

One  cause  of  our  constant  Indian  wars  is  that  the 
Indian  knows  he  can  make  peace  whenever  he  wishes. 
The  government  is  mawkishly  anxious  for  peace,  and 
no  matter  what  has  been  done  by  the  Indian,  he  has 
but  to  intimate  that  he  docs  not  want  to  fight,  and  the 
conflict  is  over,  the  Indian  unpunished. 

I  was  once  present  when  three  white  women,  one  a 
bright,  sprightly,  intelligent,  married  lady,  were  re- 
turned after  a  captivity  of  several  months  among  the 
savages.  This  lady  detailed  to  the  wife  of  my  inti- 
mate friend  (from  whom  I  received  it)  a  story  of  hor- 
rors for  which  the  life  of  every  Indian  of  the  tribe 
would  scarcely  atone,  yet  though  the  Indians  who 
killed  the  men  and  carried  oif  and  outraged  the  women, 
were  known  by  name  to  the  authorities,  no  one  was 
ever  punished ;  nor  does  it  seem  to  have  entered  into 
the  minds  of  any  one  in  authority  that  punishment 


::-»*;• 


I(       ■' 


532 


CHILDRESi'   C^VPTIVES. 


I'. 


i> 


was  deserved.  There  is  absolutely  no  remedy  for 
this  state  of  things,  so  lon<^  as  we  regard  the  petty 
Indian  Tribes  as  independent  nations,  with  whom  ouv 
intercourse  must  be  regulated  by  treaty.  "\Ve  cannot 
make  laws  for  other  independent  nations,  and  in  the 
absence  of  law,  punishment  is  mere  vengeance. 

I  have  before  epokcn  of  the  very  great  fondness  of 
Indians  for  children.  In  their  raids  on  each  other 
and  on  the  whites,  those  children  who  are  largo 
enough  to  help  themselves  a  little,  and  yet  not  old 
enough  to  be  likely  to  have  strong  affection  or  mem- 
ory, are  carried  off  to  the  tribe,  and  adopted  into  it. 
These  are  sometimes  adopted  by  men  who  have  lost 
children,  otherwise  they  ai-e  brought  up  in  the  families 
of  their  captors.  In  either  case  they  are  tieated 
exactly  as  arc  the  other  children. 

When  arrived  at  maturity,  the  males  sometimes 
return  to  their  own  tribes.  The  females  are  sold  in 
marriage  by  their  adopted  parents.  They  never, 
however,  have  quite  the  status  of  native-born  women, 
and  on  the  slightest  indiscretion  are  likely  to  fall  into 
the  condition  of  slavery  already  described. 


fjrii^^VTy  .  '♦•^•tjr.f  V'- 


^^-4>-.-.> 


i.-'ji'-'  -r:-!-^']  •■jur 


largo 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE    captive'^    fate  —  IXDIAX   CRUELTY   ^vXD  HOR- 
EIPLE   DEVICES   OF   TORTURE  —  TRAGEDIES. 

The  Indian's  Chief  Pleasure  in  Life  — Relishing  the  Agony  of  a  Vic- 
tim —  Cruelty  to  Animals  —  Indian  Women  in  the  Role  of  Torturers  — 
Hellish  Ingenuit}  —  Exultation  over  a  Captive  —  Cruelty  of  the 
Apaches  —  The  Fate  of  Chihuahua  — A  Band  of  Fiends  — Bound 
Nalied  to  the  Cactus  —  Left  to  Die  —  The  Fate  of  Captive  Women  — 
Bondage  Worse  than  Death  — An  Exciting  Scene  — Horrible  Cruel- 
ties —  New  Devices  of  Torture  —  Experimenting  with  Prisoners  — 
Dissecting  Living  Human  Beings  —  Torture  of  a  Mexican  Captive — 
Digging  His  Own  Grave  —  Buried  Alive  »vith  the  Head  Out  of 
Ground  —  Partial  Flaying  —  Dislocations  —  Scalped  and  Abandoned  — 
A  Ghastly  Tragedy  — The  Story  of  an  Apache  Girl  — Yellow  Legs. 


lITELTY  is  a  trait  natural  and  com- 
mon to  humanity.  The  savage  dances 
with  delight  at  the  groans  wrung  from 
his  enemy  by  physical  torture;  the  en- 
lightened gentleman  plunges  a  dagger 
of  courteous  words  into  the  heart  of  his 
friend,  and  smiles  blandly  at  his  mental 
torture.  I  know  kindly  disposed  and 
estimable  savages,  who  would  tie  their  enemy 
to  the  ground,  and  pleasantly  warm  themselves  by 
the  fire  built  on  his  naked  breast.  I  know  accom- 
plished gentlemen  standing  high  in  the  estimation  of 
society,  who  never  use  an  angry  tone,  yet  whose 
wives  have  cause  to  envy  the  victim  of  the  savage. 

Barbarism  torments  the  body;  civilization  torments 
the  soul.     The  savage  remorselessly  takes  your  scalp, 

033 


534= 


TORTURE  OF  MAX  AND  BEAST. 


your  civilized  friend  as  remorselessly  swindles  yon  out 
of  your  property.  The  jorogress  of  enlightenment  of 
a  people  would  seem  to  be  measurable  by  their  less 
or  greater  abhorrence  of  physical  torture  and  the 
ingenuity  and  politeness  with  which  mental  torture 
may  be  inflicted.  The  actual  cruelty  is  possibly 
about  the  same  in  either  case,  but  it  is  the  case  of 
the  savage  that  comes  up  for  judgment. 

The  cruelty  of  the  Indian  is  born  in  and  bred  with 
him,  and  clings  to  him  through  life.  It  is  the  very 
lowest  type  or  development  of  cruelty,  its  manifes- 
tation being  purely  physical.  As  a  boy,  his  especial 
delight  is  the  torture  of  every  bird  or  animal  that 
falls  into  his  hands.  As  a  man,  the  torture  of  a 
human  being  gives  him  more  pleasure  than  any  other 
act  of  his  life;  and  on  no  occasion  is  his  laughter  so 
joyous  and  heartfelt  as  when  some  especial  ingenuity 
forces  a  cry  of  agony  from  the  victim  of  his  cruelty. 

The  torture  of  a  human  being  is  an  active,  exquisite 
pleasure.  Cruelty  to  animals  is  equally  marked, 
though  simply  a  matter  of  indifference.  An  Indian 
will  ride  a  horse,  from  whose  back  the  skin  and  flesh 
have  been  torn  by  an  ill-fitting  saddle.  He  will  ride 
him  at  speed  until  he  drops,  then  force  him  to  his 
feet  and  ride  him  again.  A  Plains  saying  is  that 
"  a  white  man  will  abandon  a  horse  as  broken  down, 
and  utterly  unable  to  go  furtlier;  a  Mexican  will  then 
mount,  ride  him  fifty  miles  and  abandon  him;  an  Indian 
will  then  mount  and  ride  liim  for  a  week." 

In  extravagance  of  delight  in  the  anticipation  of  a 
scene  of  torture,  for  hellish  ingenuity  in  devising,  and 
remorseless  cruelty  In  inflicting  pain,  the  Indian 
woman  far  exceeds  her  husband  and  son,  and  thev 
can  give  her  no  keener  enjoyment,  when  returning 


wm 


wmm 


ATACIIE    CRUELTY. 


535 


from  a  foray,  than  by  bringing  a  prisoner  on  which 
this  ingenuity  can  be  practised;  and  as  a  rule,  when  a 
dead  body  is  found  specially  mutilated,  the  head 
beaten,  battered,  and  crushed  out  of  shape  by  stones, 
it  is  squaw  work. 

Of  all  Indians,  the  Apaches  have  deservedly  the 
credit  of  being  the  most  ingeniously  and  relentlessly 
cruel.  "While  yet  a  dependency  of  Spain,  the  pres- 
ent Mexican  state  of  Chihuahua  was  well  peopled. 
Thriving  settlements  and  prosperous  ranches  occupied 
every  stream  and  spring,  and  the  whole  country  was 
covered  with  cattle.  AVhile  the  Spanish  power  was 
dominant,  the  A})aches  appear  to  have  given  little 
trouble,  but  taking  advantage  of  the  disturbances 
consequent  to  the  revolution  of  1824,  they  commenced 
upon  the  unfortunate  state  a  series  of  depredations, 
so  disastrous  that  in  population  and  wealth  it  is  now 
scarce  "  the  shadow  of  its  former  self" 

They  destroyed  property,  killed  cattle,  carried  off 
the  women,  killed  and  tortured  the  men  from  i)ure 
love  of  deviltry.  One  of  their  favorite  tortures  was 
to  strip  their  unfortunate  captive  and  bind  him 
tightly  to  a  huge  cactus  (Pcrasl'ea  Gigcmtea)  of  the 
country. 

To  this  day  they  are  regarded  as  a  fate  to  which 
everything  is  referable,  and  a  common  saying  in 
regard  to  a  bi-ight  boy  is,  "  He  will  make  a  fine  man 
if  the  Apaches  do  not  tic  him  to  a  cactus." 

"  Issue  day  "  is  a  great  day  at  the  agencies.  The 
women  attend  to  draw  their  rations,  the  bucks  to 
have  a  quat^l  buffalo  hunt.  The  beeves  are  delivered 
to  the  Indians  "  on  the  hoof"  alive.  At  the  appointed 
time  every  warrior  is  on  his  horse,  ready  and  "  eager 
for  the  fray."     The  boys  surround  the  corral  in  which 


\\ 


536 


MiailC   BUFFALO   HUNT. 


the  cattle  are  confined,  and  practise  witli  their  arrows 
on  the  poor  animals,  until  they  are  well-nigh  frantic. 
The  gate  is  then  opened,  and  the  herd  rushes  out, 
scattering  widely  over  the  plain,  each  animal  fol- 
lowed by  half  a  dozen  yelling  Indians.  In  ten  to 
twenty  minutes  all  are  down,  I'iddled  with  bullets  and 
arrows.  It  is  an  exciting  scene,  but  should  be  wit- 
nessed at  a  safe  distance,  as  the  Indians  in  their 
excitement  throw  tlieir  l)ullets  in  every  direction.  Xo 
sooner  are  the  cattle  down,  than  the  squaws  are  at 
them.  An  officer  told  me  that  he  had  seen  the 
tongue  cut  out  of  a  beef  while  it  was  yet  alive. 
This  system  of  issue  is  a  good  school  for  cruelty. 

Cruelty  is  both  an  amusement  and  a  study.  So 
much  pleasure  is  derived  from  it,  that  an  Indian  is 
constantly  thinlving  out  ncAV  devices  of  torture,  and 
how  to  prolong  to  the  utmost  those  already  known. 
Ills  anatomical  knowledge  of  the  most  sensitive  por- 
tions of  the  human  frame  is  most  accurate,  and  the 
amount  oi  whipping,  cutting,  flaying,^  and  l)urning 
that  he  Avill  make  a  human  body  undergo,  without 
seriously  affecting  the  vital  power,  is  astonishing. 

"When  there  is  time  for  the  indulgence  of  the  pas- 
time, no  wounded  man  falls  into  his  power  but  be- 
comes at  once  the  subject  of  experiment. 

Of  all  the  horrible  stories  which  I  have  heard  of 
Indian  cruelty,  one  told  me  by  old  Espinosa  is  most 
vivid  in  its  ghastly  hoi-ror. 

"\yhen  he  was  about  twent3^-four  years  old,  a  party 
of  Comanches,  from  the  same  camp  in  which  he 
lived,  while  on  a  raid  into  Mexico,  attacked  a  large 
ranche.  The  inhabitants,  being  poorl}^  armed,  made 
little  resistance,  except  a  few  men,  who,  getting  into 
a   courtyard,   vigorously  defended   themselves   with 


'•r^./-;jr\^\'  j"^:  .^-  ■^■»»^jri: 


»..,-r  ■*"*-(?. .T. 


PLAirTED-, 


537 


isiich  weapons  as  came  to  their  hands.  All  were  soon 
dispatched,  except  one  man,  almost  a  giant  in 
stature  and  strength,  who,  although  armed  onl}^  with 
an  axe,  killed  o?ie  or  two  of  his  assailants  and  kept 
the  others  at  bay.  At  last  an  Indian,  getting  on  the 
wall,  threw  a  lasso  over  his  head,  and,  jerked  off  his 
feet,  he  was  soon  bound  hand  and  foot.  After  the 
ruthless  violation  and  murder  of  all  the  women,  the 
children  were  fastened  in  a  room,  the  ranche  pillaged 
and  set  on  fire  in  a  dozen  places.  Taking  with  them 
as  prisoner  the  one  man  who  had  signalized  himself 
in  the  defence  of  the  ranche,  the  Indians  departed 
for  their  own  country.  On  the  long  march  the  pris- 
onci',  though  closely  watched  and  guarded  by  day, 
and  securely  bound  at  night,  was  treated  with  ex- 
treme kindness.  They  complimented  his  courage  in 
the  highest  terms  ;  told  him  they  intended  taking 
him  to  their  camp,  adopting  him  into  the  tribe,  and 
making  a  great  (;hief  of  him.  The  trail  folloAved, 
after  leaving  the  head  of  the  Xueces  Kiver,  crossed 
the  southern  end  of  the  high  table-land  known  to 
Avhites  as  the  "  Staked  Plains."  At  a  water-hole  on 
this  table-land  the  party  halted  for  several  days. 
Telling  the  prisoner  that  they  Avanted  it  for  some  re- 
ligious ceremony,  they  set  him  to  digging  a  hole  in 
the  ground.  AYorking  with  knife  and  hands,  he,  in  a 
day  or  two,  completed  a  pit  about  three  feet  in  diam- 
eter and  over  five  feet  deep.  Early  next  morning  a 
rope  was  tightly  tied  about  the  ankles  of  the  captive 
and  wrapped  spirally  round  his  legs  and  body  to  the 
neck,  binding  his  arms  tightly  to  his  sides.  Rigid 
and  immovable,  the  man  was  then  planted  upright 
like  a  post  in  the  hole,  the  dirt  filled  in  and  tightly 
rammed  down  around  him.     "When  all  was  completed 


'''i'- 


f  -^ 


..,^-^-.v\  . 


m-m^^^^*^ 


■■p 


i 


II 


538 


ALP7E    OR  DEAD. 


i 


nothing  hut  his  head  was  visible.  They  then  scalped 
his  head,  cut  off  his  lips,  eyelids,  nose,  and  ears; 
danced  around,  mocked,  taunted,  and  left  him. 

On  their  arrival  at  the  camp  the  party  described  in 
detail  their  punishment  of  the  Mexican,  and  in  all  the 
tribe  it  was  regarded  as  an  exquisite  piece  of  pleas- 
antry. The  man  would  live,  they  said,  for  at  least 
eight  days,  revived  at  night  by  the  cold  of  the  high 
Plains,  to  be  driven  mad  next  day  by  the  hot  sun  beat- 
ing on  his  scalped  head  and  defenceless  eyel)alls, 
while  myriads  of  flies  would  fill  his  wounds  with 
maggots.  This  "  joke  "  gained  great  celebrity  among 
the  southern  Plains  tribes,  and  the  warrior  who  pro- 
posed it  was  regarded  as  an  inventive  genius  of  the 
first  order. 

The  bodies  of  all  men  killed  by  Indians  are  almost 
always  terribly  mutilated,  but  it  is  not  difficult  to  tell 
from  the  nature  of  this  mutilation  whether  the  bodies 
fell  into  their  hands  before  or  after  death.  If  it  be 
pierced  with  many  bullet-holes  or  stuck  full  of 
arrows,  or  cut  and  slashed  Avith  deep  and  careless 
gashes,  the  spirit  had  joassed  before  the  Indian  got 
possession;  but  artistic  dissections,  partial  flayings, 
dislocations,  breaking  and  splitting  of  fingers  and 
toes,  indicate  that  the  poor  fellow  went  to  his  long 
home  with  all  the  accomi)animents  of  pain  and  hor- 
ror that  these  devils  can  devise. 

A  few  yeai's  ago,  a  gallant  officer  of  cavalry  sur- 
prised a  village  of  Apaches.  Among  the  prisoners 
was  a  sprightly  girl  of  fourteen,  who,  taking  the 
fancy  of  the  officer's  wife,  was  adopted  into  the 
family  as  a  servant  of  all  work.  Nicely  clothed,  well 
fed,  and  kindly  treated,  she  had  every  reason  to  be 
happy  and  contented. 


TIIE   APACHE   SQUAW. 


539 


Unfortunately  she  had  been  recently  married,  and 
her  heart  yearned  for  her  lover-hiisliand  i?.  the  moun- 
tains. One  morning  she  was  gone.  Alone,  on  foot, 
without  food,  she  had  started  on  a  journey  of  more 
than  a  hundred  miles  to  search  for  the  scattei'cd 
remnants  of  her  band,  secreted  in  the  most  secluded 
fastnesses.  None  but  an  Indian  woman  would  have 
undertaken  such  a  journey,  none  but  an  Indian  would 
have  succeeded.  She  was  given  up  as  hopelessly 
lost,  when  one  morning  she  suddenly  made  her  ap- 
pearance. She  had  left,  plump,  clean,  and  well 
dressed;  she  returned  naked,  filthy,  and  emaciated. 

On  her  arrival  at  the  Apache  camp,  she  found  that 
her  husband  had  been  killed  in  the  fight.  Having  now 
no  protector,  she  was  set  upon  by  the  other  squaws 
and  stripped  of  all  her  nice  clothing.  Starved  and 
maltreated  in  every  way,  she  finally  made  her  escape 
from  her  red  relatives  and  friends,  to  take  refuge 
with  her  white  enemies.  Since  then  she  has  hated 
Indians  with  the  most  bitter,  unrelenting  hatred. 
She  calls  herself  a  white  woman,  and  one  cannot 
insult  her  more  than  by  asking  in  her  presence  if  she 
is  an  Indian. 

Another  officer,  hunting  Apaches  in  Arizona,  one 
day  surprised  and  captured  three  women,  who  were 
gathering  the  maguey  plant.  Two  were  left  under  a 
guai'd  in  camp,  the  other  forced  to  conduct  the 
troops  to  the  Indian  "rancheria."  Just  at  daylight 
next  morning,  the  two  girls  under  guard  began  a 
most  animated  conversation,  laughing  heartily,  and 
sometimes  positively  screaming  with  delight.  They 
were  talking  over  the  attack  of  their  own  camp;  and 
fancying  how  their  fathers,  mothers  and  lovers,  terri- 
fied  almost  out  of  their  Avits,  were  scuttling  away 


n.:^mm-'^ 


540 


YELLOW  LEGS   ON   CRUELTY. 


from  the  bullets,  could  find  nothing  but  fun  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  probable  scenes.  This  is  an 
excess  of  heartlessness  not  usual  even  among  In- 
dians. 

I  was  once  on  a  hunt  with  an  Indian,  whom,  as  he 
now  wants  to  have  a  farm,  take  "the  white  man's 
road,"  and  be  a  respectable  citizen,  I  will  call  "Yel- 
low Legs"  (that  not  being  his  name).  lie  is  a  good 
fellow,  a  splendid  hunter,  a  man  of  more  than  aver- 
age intelligence,  quiet  in  his  manner,  but  very  blunt 
in  his  speech. 

We  had  had  a  good  day's  hunt,  and  after  supper 
were  sitting  smoking  and  chatting  by  the  camp-fire, 
when  this  subject  came  up.  After  some  conversa- 
tion, I  asked : — 

"But  how  can  you  Indians  \>e  so  heartlessly 
cruel  y  " 

"  Cruel,"  he  repeated,  "  what  do  you  call  cruel  ?  " 

"  Torturing  your  enemies ;  killing  women  and  helj)- 
less  children,"  I  answered. 

"Oome,  oome,"  groaned  Yellow  Legs,  sucking 
desperately  at  a  cigar  I  had  given  him. 

After  a  few  moments  he  asked  with  an  air  of  great 
care  and  circumspection : — 

"  Who  made  you  ?  " 

"  God,"  I  answered. 

"  And  who  is  God  ?  " 

"  The  maker  of  all  things." 

"  I  have  heard  of  the  white  man's  God.  He  makes 
everything,  knows  everything,  does  everything.  Is 
he  good  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  Have  you  any  other  God  ?  " 

"  !N'o,  there  is  but  one  God." 


'"Ty-J".'^  'i:-. 


SAVAGE  roEA  OF   CRUELTY. 


541 


"  Oome,  oome,  oome,"  groaned  Yellow  Legs.  '^  If 
there  is  but  one  God,  and  lie  is  good,  how  ean  you 
say  that  anything  he  docs  is  l)ad  '  Does  he  not  tor- 
ture people  with  all  sorts  of  diseases  V  Does  he  not 
kill  women  and  children  whenever  he  wants  to.  You 
are  a  fool,  and  talk  like  a  preacher." 

Civilization  alone  can  translate  savage  cruelty. 


fe.i^.. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

A     RACE     OP     THIEVES     AXD     PLUNDERERS  —  THEIR 
DARING  AND   SKILL  —  ADVENTURES. 

The  Siiecessful  Thief  — Ilis  Standing  in  the  Tribe  — The  Gravest  of 
Crinu'S  —  Ilorso  Stealing  —  Doom  of  the  Ciiptnred  Thief — Recliless 
Warriors  —  Disguised  as  Whites  —  The  False  Trail  —  Accomplished 
Snoak-Tliieves  —  Comanche  Expei'ts  —  Crawling  into  a  Bivouac  — 
Indian  Wiles  —  Old  Texans  Caught  Napping  —  My  Night  Atlv(;nture 
at  Fort  Lincoln  —  The  Blacksmith's  Death  —  Shot  Dead  in  his  Tracks 

—  The  Prince  of  Trailera — A  Thrilling  Incident  —  My  Experience 
with  a  Comanche  —  The  Fiend's  Bravado  —  A  AVild  Leap  —  A  Race 
of  Thieves  —  A  Wagon  Train  Slanipcded  —  The  Night  Attack  —  The 
Old  Rifle  Regiment —  A  Remarkal)lo  Ruse  —  Horses  Frantic  with  Fear 

—  Unearthly  Yells  —  The  Mystery  Explained. 

N  Indian  estimation,  the  skilful  thief 
stands  very  nearly  on  a  par  with  the 
daring  fighter. 

Success  in  war  tends  to  ferocity  among 
savages,  indeed  I  am  disposed  to  be- 
lieve that  success  in  single  combat  tends 
to  brutalize  every  man.  The  admiration 
for  a  successful  warrior  is  likely  to  be 
tempered  with  some  fear  of  him,  while  ad- 
miration for  the  successful  thief  is  only  enhanced  by 
envy  of  his  skill  and  consequent  wealth. 

Indians  are  very  like  other  people.  Rich  men 
have  standing  and  consideration  irrespective  of  their 
personal  qualities,  and  without  reference  to  how  the 
riches  Avere  obtained.  Besides  this,  Indians  have 
peculiar  ideas  as  to  the  rights  of  property.     An  act 

542 


^fff^vm 


HORSE   STE^U^INO. 


543 


is  not  praiseworthy  or  criminal  in  itself,  but  from 
the  standpoint  from  which  it  is  viewed.  It  is  the 
old  fable,  as  to  whose  ox  is  gored. 

An  Indian  steals  the  horses  of  an  Indian  of  an- 
other tribe.  In  his  own  estimation  and  that  of  his 
tribe  the  act  is  admirable  and  worthy  of  all  praise, 
while  ill  the  estimation  of  the  loser  and  his  tribe, 
the  act  is  a  most  villanous  theft,  and  the  perpetrator 
deserving  instant  death. 

To  steal  from  a  member  of  his  own  band  is  the 
greatest  crime  an  Indian  can  commit;  to  steal  fi'om 
any  one  else,  and  not  be  caught  at  it,  is  an  act 
worthy  the  highest  commendation.  The  man  that 
steals  an  Indian's  horse  is  a  far  greater  enemy  and 
criminal  than  he  who  steals  his  wife.  Xo  penalty 
except  the  payment  of  her  marketable  value  attaches 
to  the  latter,  while  the  doom  of  the  captured  horse- 
thief  is  certain  death. 

When  not  at  war,  Indians  are  not  very  careful  of 
their  horses,  leaving  the  herd  habitually  in  charge  of 
the  boys.  The  opportunities  for  stealing  are  so  many 
and  excellent  that  the  temptation  is  often  too  strong 
to  be  resisted.  A  few  reckless  warriors  will  dash 
into  a  herd  belonging  to  a  neighboring  and  friendly 
tribe,  and  get  away  with  as  many  as  possible.  To 
avoid  identification  (which  would  insure  the  return 
of  the  ponies  and  the  punishment  of  the  thieves,  or 
involve  the  tribe  in  war),  they  will  previously  have 
disguised  themselves  in  white  men's  clothing,  or  take 
care  to  drop  arrows  or  moccasins  of  some  far-away 
and  usually  hostile  tribe. 

This,  however,  is  of  late  years  a  very  uncommon 
occurrence.  When  the  whole  vast  country  was  free 
to  the  Indian,  the  thieves   could   drive  their  stolen 


5U 


COMANCHE   SNEAK-THIEVES. 


!lii 


stock  far  away,  disposo  of,  or  enjoy  It  as  socmccl  l)cst. 
"Now  the  lines  of  reservations  restrict  their  roanilngs, 
and  the  stolen  property  can  neither  be  concealed  nor 
disposed  of  without  discovery. 

AVhcreall  are  such  maf^nificent  thieves,  it  is  diflicult 
to  decide  which  of  the  Plains  tribes  deserves  the  i)ahn 
for  stealing.  The  Indians  themselves  give  it  to  the 
Comanches,  whose  designation  in  the  sign  language 
is  a  backward  wriggling  motion  of  the  index  finger, 
signifying  a  snake,  and  indicating  the  silent  stealth 
of  that  tribe.  There  is  no  doubt  that  these  Indians 
arc  the  best  and  most  successful  sneak-thieves  among 
red-skins.  Foi*  crawling  into  a  camp,  cutting  hop- 
ples and  lariat  ropes,  and  getting  off  undiscovei-ed 
wi+h  the  animals,  they  arc  unsurpassed  and  nnsur- 
passable.  I  have  known  a  Comanche  to  crawl  into  a 
bivouac,  where  a  dozen  old  Texans,  men  accustomed 
to  the  wiles  of  the  Indians,  were  sleeping  each  with 
horse  tied  to  his  wrist,  by  the  lariat,  cut  a  rope  within 
six  feet  of  the  sleeper's  person,  and  get  away  with  the 
horse  without  waking  a  soul. 

The  corral  fence  at  Fort  Lincoln,  Texas,  was  made 
of  thorny  chaparral  brush,  tightly  pressed  between 
upright  posts  set  by  twos.  It  was  impassable  for 
white  man  or  horse,  yet  scarcely  a  week  passed  of 
the  first  summer  after  the  establishment  of  the  post, 
that  the  Indians  did  not  get  over  this  fence,  and 
cutting  horses  from  the  picket  line,  endeavor  to 
stampede  them  so  thoroughly,  as  to  make  them  break 
down  the  fence.  This  failed,  and  one  or  more  Indians 
hav^ing  been  wounded  at  different  times  by  tlie 
sentinels,  a  new  plan  was  tried.  The  gate  of  the 
corral  was  a  heavy  wooden  frame,  to  which  were 
hung  two  strong  doors  opening  outward  fi'om  the 


MURDER. 


545 


nor 


centre.  These  doors  wore  chained  toofcther  at  ni<»ht. 
and  loclvcd  hy  llie  ofllcer  of  tlie  day,  wlio  kept  tlie 
key.  The  oidy  means  of  entcrinj^  the  corral  after 
dark  Avas  l)y  a  small  i)ostern  two  feet  Ijy  three,  cnt  in 
one  of  tlie  (h)ors. 

One  ni^^lit  T  was  on  dnty  as  officer  of  the  day;  it 
was  after  twelve  o'clock,  and  I  was  quietly  getting 
ready  to  visit  the  guard  and  sentinels,  when  my 
movements  wei-e  greatly  accelerated  by  a  shot  pro- 
ceeding apparently  from  the  sentinel  in  the  corral. 
It -inning  at  full  speed,  T  entered  the  corral,  to  find 
the  sentinel  greatly  excited.  He  had  not  fired;  had 
seen  or  heard  nothing  but  the  shot  which  came 
appai-ently  from  the  outside  of  .the  corral.  By  this 
time  the  guard  had  arrived,  and  procuring  a  lantern, 
Ave  went  outside  and  almost  instantly  stumbled  over 
a  body,  Avhich  on  examination  proved  to  be  that  of 
the  blacksmith,  a  quiet  and  excellent  soldier.  Tie  had 
been  shot  through  the  heart  and  killed  instantly. 
Next  moi'uing  at  daylight,  the  prince  of  all  trailers, 
old  Espinosa,  Avas  on  the  track.  An  ofiiccr  and  some 
tAventy  men  Avere  ordered  out,  and  ran  the  Indians 
for  fifty  miles,  getting  so  close  to  them  that  they 
broke  and  scattered,  hiding  themselA'cs  in  the  rocks 
and  thickets  of  the  Guadalopc  Mountains. 

Esi)inosa  found  from  the  ''sign"  that  the  Indian 
had  craAvled  around  the  corral  fence,  on  to  the  parade 
ground,  and  Avas  probably  at  Avork  on  the  gate  Avheu 
the  blacksmith  suddenly  came  upon  him  and  Avas 
shot,  simply  to  further  his  oAvn  escape. 

The  effect  of  this  murder  was  that  the  Comanches 
ceased  to  trouble  Fort  Lincoln,  probably  fearing 
retaliation. 

It  is  true  of  all  Indians,  but  especially  a  trait  of 

34 


546 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE. 


Comanchcs,  that  when  o)i  a  stealing  expedition,  they 
will  not  jeopardize  the  loss  of  a  horse  by  firing  a  shot, 
except  to  save  their  own  lives. 

I  was  once  with  twenty  infantry  men  stationed  near 
a  ranche  named  Las  Laxas,  guarding  some  fords  of 
the  llio  Grande,  much  used  by  the  Comanches  and 
Lipans.  As  i)rotection  against  the  excessive  heat, 
I  had  built  over  and  around  my  tent  what  Mexicans 
and  frontiersmen  call  a  "  lamada."  Forked  poles  are 
planted  in  the  ground,  other  ])olcs  are  laid  on  the 
forks,  and  on  this  frame  is  throAvn  a  thick  covering 
of  leafy  boughs.  For  the  sides,  poles  are  tied  to  the 
forks,  and  willows  or  other  straight  bushes  are 
wattled  in.  It  makes  a  most  comfoi'table  residence 
in  the  dry  hot  climate  of  the  Plains,  the  tent  being 
used  only  as  bedchamber. 

My  men,  similarly  protected  by  ramadas,  were 
some  fifty  yards  away.  Between  us  walked  at  night 
our  only  senti'.iel,  and  directly  on  his  beat  my  horse 
was  tied. 

Late  one  night  I  Avas  sitting  in  my  ramada  parlor, 
doing  the  most  disagreeable  duty  that  falls  to  the  lot 
of  a  young  oflicer,  —  making  out  Quartermaster's 
papers,  —  when  my  dog,  lying  at  my  feet,  made  a  furi- 
ous rush  to  the  door,  his  hair  all  turned  the  wrong  way. 
Somewhat  startled  I  got  U]),  walked  to  the  door,  and 
peered  into  the  darkness,  but  seeing  nothing,  called 
to  the  sentinel,  and  as  he  had  not  seen  or  heard  any- 
thing, I  scolded  the  dog  for  making  a  false  alarm. 
Some  hours  after,  long  before  daylight,  I  was  awak- 
ened by  Mexicans  from  the  ranche,  who  told  me  that 
Indians  had  been  through  and  stolen  all  their  horses. 
AVhen  daylight  came  I  set  the  trailer  to  work  up  the 
case.     About  eiu'ht  Indians  had  visited  us.     All  but 


mmmm 


mm 


DASHING  THIEVES. 


547 


one  had  gone  for  the  stock  at  the  ranche.  That  one 
had  fixed  upon  my  horse,  and  his  trail  indicated  that 
he  had  crawled  about  the  ramadis  half  a  dozen  times, 
watching,  hoping  that  the  sentinel  might  be  careless. 
He  had  come  directly  to  my  door;  and,  deeply  indented 
in  the  soft  ground  not  six  feet  from  where  I  stood  in 
the  doorway,  were  the  prints  of  his  moccasins,  show- 
ing where  he  had  bounded  for  concealment  behind  a 
little  mesquite  bush  when  the  dog  made  his  onslaught. 

Of  course,  he  could  have  killed  me,  but  he  knew 
that  a  shot  would  rouse  the  command,  and  destroy 
all  chances  of  stealing  any  horses  from  the  ranche. 
He  let  me  off,  and  undoubtedly  considered  himself 
well  repaid,  as  the  party  got  away  safely  with  about 
twenty  ponies.  I  could  give  numerous  other  in- 
stances personal  to  myself,  or  other  officers,  of  the 
stealth  and  cunning  of  the  Comanches,  but  enough 
has  been  told  to  prove  their  pre-eminence  in  these 
qualities. 

For  dash  and  boldness  in  thieving,  I  think  the 
southern  Cheyennes  first,  though  closely  emulated 
by  Kiowas,  Sioux,  and  Apaches. 

In  1871,  four  companies  of  the  Sixth  United  States 
Infantry  were  encamped  for  the  night  at  Bear  Creek, 
in  Kansas.  The  mules  belonging  to  the  wagon  train 
were  quietly  grazing,  surrounded  by  herders  and 
guard,  when  two  Cheyenne  Indians  suddenly  emerged 
from  a  little  ravine,  and  shaking  buffalo  robes  and 
yelling  like  fiends,  dashed  into  the  herd.  In  an  in- 
stant all  were  ofi*  under  the  full  headway  of  a  stam- 
pede. It  took  but  an  instant  for  the  command  to 
turn  out,  but,  in  spite  of  hundreds  of  shots,  the  dar- 
ing thieves  succeeded  in  getting  away  with  every 
animal. 


^ffWPP 


mmm 


548 


CAPTAIN   TUPPER  S   EXPERIENCE. 


linearly  every  horse  of  four  companies  of  llie  old 
Rifle  Kegimeiit  were  once  lost  near  Fort  Davis, 
Texas,  by  a  sudden  and  daring  dash,  in  the  face  of  a 
strong  guard,  of  less  than  half  a  dozen  Mescalero 
Ajjaches.  The  Sioux  in  the  noi'th,  and  the  Kiowas 
in  Texas,  repeat  the  story  year  after  year,  and  hun- 
dreds of  instances  could  be  given  if  necessary. 

A  very  remarkable  I'use,  and  one  Avhich  I  have 
never  heard  of  before  or  since,  was  tried  on  Captain 
Tupper,  Sixth  Cavalry.  Tiie  captain  had  been  out 
on  a  hard  scout  after  the  Cheyennes,  and  liad  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  them  some  damage,  though  they 
had  scattered  and  avoided  a  direct  fight.  Finding  he 
could  do  them  no  more  injury,  and  being  short  of 
rations,  he  started  on  his  return  to  his  post,  Fort 
Dodge,  Kansas,  followed,  however, by  Indians,  singly 
or  in  twos  and  threes,  who,  easily  avoiding  any  direct 
onslaught  of  the  heavier  troops,  cflectually  prevented 
hunting  or  straggling,  and  continually  made  elForts 
to  get  some  of  his  horses.  On  the  night  before  arri- 
val at  Fort  Dodge,  he  encamped  on  Mulberry  Creek. 
Every  precaution  was  taken,  and  at  dusk  the  horses 
were  bi-ought  in,  and  besides  being  tied  to  the  ])icket- 
rope,  Avere  hoppled.  It  was  known  that  the  Indians 
were  all  around  them,  for  after  dark  they  had  made 
sufficient  disturbance  by  yelling  and  firing  shots  to 
keep  both  men  and  horses  in  a  high  state  of  excite- 
ment. 

Mulberry  Creek  is  a  deep  bed  with  almost  perpen- 
dicular banks.  It  is  a  peculiarly  Plains  stream,  hav- 
ing water  when  it  pleases.  For  a  mile  or  more  the 
water  is  running  and  in  deep  pools,  for  the  next  mile 
or  more  there  is  not  a  drop.  The  camp  Avas  in  a 
sharp  bend  of  the  creek,  peculiarly  adapted  for  pro- 


>*> 


A  HORRIBLE   FIRE-BALL. 


549 


tccfion  of  the  animals,  being  covered  by  this  ditch, 
here  ahnost  impassable  from  deep  water  and  steep 
banks. 

The  horses  had  been  tied  to  a  picket-line,  at  each 
end  of  which  a  fire  was  kept  burning-,  so  that  no  one 
eonld  approach  it  without  being  seen.  The  men  were 
bivouacked  across  the  elbow,  some  little  distance  from 
the  horses,  and  well  beyond  the  firelight.  In  advance 
of  these,  sentinels  lay  flat  on  the  ground  and  watched. 

The  Indians  had  quieted,  and  the  camp  settled  into 
repose,  when  suddenly  a  huge  ball  of  flame  came 
rushing  into  camp,  accompanied  by  the  most  terrific 
yells  that  ever  split  the  throats  even  of  Indians. 
Through  and  among  the  horses  it  went,  rendering 
them  so  fi-antic  with  fear  that  some  few  burst  the 
strong  fetters  with  which  they  were  held,  and  disap- 
peared in  the  darkness.  In  an  instant,  and  without 
command,  the  steady  and  well-discipliiied  soldiers 
seized  their  arms,  and  lying  flat  on  the  ground  gave 
the  Indians  such  a  fusillade  as  to  stop  any  desire  to 
charge,  and  almost  at  the  same  moment  the  myste- 
rious fire  disappeared.  The  horses  were  soon 
quieted,  and  the  camp  settled  itself  to  rest,  which 
was  not  again  disturbed. 

Next  morning  the  dead  body  of  a  miserable  pony 
was  found  in  the  mud  Avhere  the  mysterious  ball  of 
fire  had  disappeared.  The  outside  skin  and  flesh 
were  burned  to  a  cinder.  The  Indians  had  bound 
light  grass  and  every  inflammable  material  at  hand 
all  over  the  poor  animal,  then  led  him  in  the  dark- 
ness as  near  as  they  dared  go  to  the  line  of  sentinels, 
turned  his  head  in  the  right  direction,  and  then  set 
fire  to  him. 


mmmm 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 


HOW   TXDIAlSrS   TRAVEL  —  THEIR    MAR\Ti:LLOUS   JOUR- 
NEYS  AXD   EXPLOITS  —  rLAINSCKATT. 

Unerring  Instinct  —  Straight  as  a  Bee  Line  —  Over  Trackless  Wustes-  - 
Witliout  Star  or  Compass  —  The  Only  Instance  of  an  Indian  being 
"  Lost "  —  IMemory  of  Landmai-ks  —  Acute  Observers  —  Born  Ex- 
plorers—  Penetrating  Unknown  Lands  —  The  Old  Guide  Espinosa's 
Story  —  A  Batch  of  Young  Raiders  —  The  Solitary  Wanderer — Ex- 
emption from  Danger  —  On  the  Alert  for  Enemies — The  Love  of  Ad- 
venture —  Meandering  Delawares  —  A  Notable  Tribe  —  An  Indian 
Explorer  —  A  Wonderful  Story-Teller  —  A  Strange  Ambition  Gratified 

—  Across  the  Rocky  Mountains  —  Life  in  Mexico — Black  Reaver's 
Career  —  General  Marcy's  Guide  —  Female  Instinct  —  In  the  Tliicket 

—  Breaking  Camp  —  The  Atlvance  Guard  —  The  Mound-Builders. 


HE  Indian  travels  by  instinct.  Under 
no  other  hypothesis  can  we  understand 
the  marvellous  journeys  prolonged  to 
months,  and  even  years,  made  by  indi- 
vidual Indians;  or  the  ease  and  cer- 
tainty with  which,  when  tired  of  wan- 
dering, they  make  their  way  over  the 
"trackless  wastes"  of  the  broad  continent 
to  the  spot  which  they  recognize  as  home. 
With  no  knowledge  of  astronomy,  of  geography, 
or  of  the  compass,  the  Indian  performs  feats  of  trav- 
elling for  which  a,  white  man  requires  all  three.  To 
him  there  is  no  north,  no  south.  In  all  the  wide  cir- 
cle of  the  horizon  there  is  not  a  single  definite  point 
of  reference.     He  speaks  of  "sunrise"  to  designate 

the  broad  half  of  the  horizon  on  which  the  sun  rises, 

550 


^WF 


mm 


mm 


■M 


TRAVELLING   ESTSTDfCT. 


551 


and  of  "  sunset "  for  the  other  side,  but  he  makes  no 
use  of  either  for  ;iurpose  of  direction,  in  travelUng. 
So  also  in  night  travel ;  and  though  all  races  of  men, 
in  their  emergence  from  the  primitive  condition,  seem 
to  have  fii'st  used  the  stars  as  guides  for  assurina: 
their  journeys  in  a  given  direction,  this  seems  never 
to  have  occurred  to  the  Indian. 

I  have  never  yet  seen  an  Indian  who  had  mounted 
the  ladder  of  human  progress  sufficiently  far  to  have 
observed  that  there  is  one  star  which  never  perceptibly 
changes  its  place.  AYith  him  there  seems  to  be  no 
necessity  for  such  knowledge.  Instinct — that  incom- 
prehensible something,  that  takes  the  lark  to  its  nest 
in  the  wide  sameness  of  the  prairie,  or  the  bee  to  its 
home  in  the  hollow  tree  hidden  in  a  labyrinth  o'"  such 
trees  —  is  so  strong  in  him,  that  he  finds  no  need  for 
geography,  or  points  of  compass. 

Though  the  merest  children  ramble  off  from  camp, 
on  foot  or  on  horseback  for  miles,  I  have  heard  of 
but  a  single  instance  of  an  Indian  having  been  "lost;" 
and  this  is  somewhat  doubtful.  The  man  Avas  absent 
from  his  camp  and  family  for  some  weeks.  On  his 
return,  he  had  an  elaborate  story  of  being  lost,  with 
many  adventures.  It  is  fiir  more  probable  that  he 
had  been  on  a  thieving  expedition,  and  covered  his 
failure  with  this  statement. 

Ask  an  Indian  how  to  go  to  a  point  at  a  distance, 
one  mile  or  a  hundred  miles,  and  he  "svill  simply  point 
out  the  direction.  Press  him  closely,  and  if  he  has 
been  to  that  point,  he  will  by  his  minute  description 
disclose  another  of  his  remarkable  traits,  his  wonder- 
ful memory  of  landmarks. 

Similar  and  monotonous  as  they  appear  to  the  un- 
educated eye,  each  hill  and  valley,  each  rock  and 


'WBJfPPP^fTtl^Wfl^WF'' 


ip^ 


552 


TRAVEL  BY   LANDMARKS. 


clump  of  bushes,  has  for  him  its  distinguishing  fea- 
tures, which,  once  seen,  he  knows  forever  after,  and 
careless  as  he  appears  when  travelling,  not  one  of 
these  distinguishing  features  escapes  him. 

I  have  said  that  he  travels  by  instinct,  and  this  is 
always  true  on  long  journeys  into  unknown  countries, 
or  on  the  short  trips  of  days  or  weeks  spent  in  hunt- 
ing. But  for  raids  and  forays,  and  for  comfortable 
easy  journeying  from  one  portion  of  country  to  an- 
other, he  makes  use  of  these  landmai'ks.  This  is  his 
habitual  and  jDreferred  mode  of  travel,  and  if  going 
on  such  a  journey  into  a  country  unknown  to  him,  he 
consults  with  some  warrior  who  has  visited  it;  and  it 
is  simply  astonishing  how  clearly  the  one  describes, 
and  the  other  comprehends,  all  that  is  necessary  to 
make  the  journc}^  a  success. 

The  old  guide  Espinosa,  from  whom  I  learned  the 
rudiments  of  plains-craft,  told  me  that  when  he  was  a 
boy-prisoner  among  the  Comanches,  and  the  young- 
sters wished  to  go  on  a  raid  into  a  country  unknown  to 
them,  it  was  customary  for  the  older  men  to  assemble 
the  boys  for  instruction  a  few  days  before  the  time 
fixed  for  starting. 

All  be'ng  seated  in  a  circle,  a  bundle  of  sticks  was 
produced,  marked  with  notches  to  represent  the  days. 
Commencing  with  the  stick  with  one  notch,  an  old 
man  drew  on  the  ground  with  his  finger,  a  rude  map 
illustrating  the  journey  of  the  first  day.  The  rivers, 
streams,  hills,  valleys,  ravines,  hidden  water-holes, 
were  all  indicated  with  reference  to  prominent  and 
carefully  described  landmarks.  When  this  was 
thoroughly  understood,  the  stick  representing  the 
next  day's  march  was  illustrated  in  the  same  way, 
and  so  to  the  end.     He  further  stated  that  he  had 


3J!xaJ»K>J>«rtB»»S»»!S'!»»"' 


I 


rr^ 


mmm 


SOLITAKY   W^\:N"DERINGS. 


553 


known  one  party  of  young  men  and  boys,  the  eldest 
not  over  nineteen,  none  of  whom  had  ever  been  in 
Mexico,  to  start  from  the  main  camp  on  Brady's 
Creek  in  Texas,  and  make  a  raid  into  Mexico  as  far 
as  the  city  of  Monterey,  solely  l)y  memory  of  infor- 
mation represented  and  fixed  in  their  minds  by  these 
sticks.  However  improbable  this  may  ai)pear,  it  is 
not  more  improbable  than  any  other  explanation  that 
can  be  given  of  such  a  wonderful  journey. 

A  sequence  of  landmarks  is  more  easily  established 
and  remembered  than  would  appear  probable  to  the 
uninitiated.  The  general  direction  is  always  pre- 
served as  far  as  possible.  The  first  stage  of  the 
journey  is  towards  some  marked  feature  of  the  land- 
scape, on  or  near  that  general  direction,  as  a  I'ocky 
cliff,  a  prominent  knoll,  or  a  gap  in  a  ridge.  An-iv- 
ing  at  that  point,  some  other  promineni  feature  is 
selected,  as  far  ahead  as  possible,  and  in  the  same 
general  direction.  The  person  folloAving  the  Indian's 
direction  will,  on  arriving  at  one  landmark,  readily 
I'ecognize  the  next,  and  so  on  in  sequence. 

Unlike  a  white  man,  the  Indian  never  feels  so  safe 
as  when  entirely  alone.  The  sense  of  insecurity,  the 
fear  of  surprise  which  haunts  a  war-party  in  an 
enemy's  country,  is  not  entertained  by  the  solitary 
wanderer.  He  has  no  fears  for  his  rear,  for  he  knows 
how  tedious  and  difficult  is  the  process  of  working 
out  the  trail  of  a  single  man  or  horse.  In  advancing, 
he  relies  on  his  own  sagacity  and  caution,  and  the  im- 
mense advantage  he  has  over  his  enemies  in  expect- 
ing and  watching  for  them,  while  they  are  not  exj^ect- 
ing  or  looking  for  Inm.  He  seldom  makes  a  fire, 
never  sleeps  near  one.  If  he  sees  "  sign  "  of  the  enemy, 
he  hides  himself  in  some  place  from  which  he  can 


■V. . 


iNiiiiiiWiiiiii^^ 


it; 


iS. 


^- 


554: 


JOIIX   COXNOll  S   JOURNEY. 


watch.  If  the  enemy  get  sight  of  him,  he  doubles 
and  hides  in  rocks  and  thickets,  forcing  his  pursuers 
to  hunt  him  by  the  slow  process  of  trailing.  In  this 
way  he  protracts  the  pursuit  until  dark,  and  under  its 
friendly  cover,  places  as  much  distance  as  possible 
between  himself  and  the  dangerous  neighborhood. 

Doctor  Matthews,  in  his  "Ethnology  of  the  Ilidatsa 
Indians,"  gives  account  of  two  journeys  made  by  soli- 
tary warriors  from  the  Ilidatsa  village,  one  going  far 
down  the  Lower  Missouri,  being  absent  twenty  lunar 
months,  the  other  to  the  Arctic  regions,  returning 
after  a  journey  of  sevoiteen  months. 

Of  all  the  Indians,  the  Delawares  seem  to  bo  most 
addicted  to  these  solitary  wanderings,  undertaken,  in 
their  case  at  least,  from  pure  curiosity  and  love  of  ad- 
venture. 

Thirty  years  ago,  John  Connor,  the  head  chief  of 
this  tribe,  was  living  with  his  band  near  Fort  Martin 
Scott  in  Texas,  at  which  post  I  was  stationed.  lie 
was  then  a  man  of  about  fifty  years,  and  was  justly 
renowned  as  naving  a  more  miiuite  and  extensive  per- 
sonal knowledge  of  the  Noi'th  American  Continent 
than  any  other  man  ever  had  or  probably  will  have. 
He  was  fond  of  telling  of  his  adventures,  and  boy- 
like, I  was  never  tired  of  listening  to  them;  so  we 
soon  became  great  friends. 

He  told  me,  that  when  a  boy  of  eighteen  or  nine- 
teen, he  conceived  the  most  intense  desire  to  see  the 
ocean.  At  that  time  his  band  was  sojourning  on  the 
banks  of  the  Mississippi,  within  the  limits  of  the  then 
recently  admitted  state  of  Illinois.  There  wee  too 
many  white  people  towards  the  East,  so  he  decided  to 
go  West.  Travelling  on  foot,  generally  alone,  but 
occasionally  with  white  or  red  trappers,  he  made  his 


E-i«*^t!»«*W!«*'«9ffl«5«'5B^ 


».:'*;■- 


"jfmnf^  < ' 


BLACK   BEAVER. 


555 


way  to  the  mouth  of  the  Cohimbla  River,  then  south 
along  the  Pacific  coast  for  many  miles,  until  he  came 
to  a  country  occupied  by  Mexicans. 

Liking  these  people,  he  rcumined  some  time  among 
them,  wandering  as  far  south  as  the  city  of  Durango, 
and  learning  to  speak  the  language  with  some  ease 
and  fluency.  Tiring  of  the  sameness  of  city  life,  he 
returned  through  Texas  to -his  people,  having  been 
absent  nearly  three  years. 

This  was  the  longest  continuous  journey  he  had 
ever  made,  but  afterwards  he  visited  the  citv  of  Mcx- 
ico,  and  in  repeated  journeys  crossed  and  recrossed, 
norui,  south,  east,  and  west,  the  vast  expanse  of 
wildervicss,  until  he  seemed  to  know  every  stream  and 
mountain  of  the  whole  great  continent  west  of  the 
Mississippi  River.  And  he  knew  it  so  well  as  to  be 
able,  not  only  to  travel  himself  with  certainty,  but  to 
instruct  others  how  to  travel.  His  brain  seemed  to 
be  a  vast  reservoir  of  landmarks, 


arranged  in 


se- 


quence, ready  for  use  for  journeys  in  any  direction  or 
for  any  distance. 

Black  Beaver,  the  friend  and  guide  of  General 
(then  Captain)  Marcy,  was  almost  equally  renowned 
for  his  wonderful  journeys. 

Though  not  displayed  in  so  marked  a  way,  the  In- 
dian woman  possesses  this  travelling  instinct,  only  in 
a  less  degree  than  the  man.  The  older  women  have 
a  vast  amount  of  outdoor  work,  hunting  up  stray 
ponies,  etc.,  particularly  in  winter,  when  it  is  too  cold 
for  her  lord  and  master  to  be  out,  or  whc  -  he  is  prob- 
ably losing  the  stray  animals  at  the  gaming-table. 

Nothing  is  easier  than  to  get  lost  in  the  sameness 
of  the  sand-hills,  which  border  most  of  the  Plains 
streams,  but  no  amount  of  turning  and  twisting  over 


556 


MOVEMENTS   OF   CAMP. 


the  hills  and  through  the  thicketM,  ever  interferes  with 
the  instinct  that  takes  her  direct  to  her  camp  when- 
ever she  wants  to  go  there. 

Several  writers  on  Indians  have  been  at  pains  to 
show  the  military  precision  of  Indian  movements  in 
their  changes  of  camp,  one  going  so  far  as  to  declare 
that  when  the  chief's  teepe  flnttei'ed  in  the  breeze,  all 
other  tcepes  must  flutter;  when  his  fell,  all  must  fall. 
There  could  be  no  greater  nonsense.  AVhen  camp  is 
to  be  moved,  notice  is  formally  given  by  criers,  who, 
going  through  the  village,  repeat  again  and  again  the 
orders  of  the  chief  or  dog-soldiers,  that  the  camp  will 
break  up  in  the  morning,  and  move  to  such  a  i)lace 
on  such  a  stream.  If  the  journey  be  in  a  country 
supposed  to  be  dangerous,  all  the  young  men  are  in 
the  saddle  soon  after  daylight,  and  scattered  far  and 
wide,  covering  all  the  country  in  front  or  on  the  flanks 
of  the  advance.  A  guard,  generally  of  the  older 
men,  is  left  with  the  camp,  and  these  bring  up  the 
rear.  If  there  be  no  apprehension  of  danger,  all  the 
men  so  disposed  will  move  ofl"  as  soon  as  their  horses 
are  saddled.  In  eithei'  case  the  womcii  come  on  with 
the  pack-animals.  All  the  -acking  of  household- 
goods,  striking  the  teei^es,  au'^loi^ding  the  animals,  is 
done  by  the  women.  Each  famil«p»inoves  off"  when  it 
is  ready,  the  quick-working  wome^^  of  one  family  be- 
mg  well  on  the  march  before  some  of  their  slower 
neighbors  have  got  their  teepes  down.  I  have  many 
times  seen  Indian  camps  broken,  and  encountered  or 
joined  them  on  the  march,  and  except  when  in  mo- 
mentary and  most  imminent  danger,  the  Avhole  move- 
ment is  the  reverse  of  military,  being  as  individual  as 
any  such  move  could  be.  I  once  witnessed  the  break- 
ing up  and  movement  of  a  Sioux  village  of  over  thi-ee 


CAIRNS. 


557 


to 

in 

are 

all 

fall. 


huiitlrcd  lodges,  probably  flftoen  hundred  souls,  going 
on  the  annual  budalo  hunt.  I  was  with  a  nmall  hunt- 
ing party  eauiped  near  the  village,  and  knowing  that 
they  were  to  move,  I  got  up  soon  after  daylight  to  see 
it.  Early  as  I  was,  the  movement  had  eonunenced, 
the  long  slopes  of  pi-airie  being  dotted  with  Indian 
men,  some  near,  some  far  away,  while  Indians  were 
constantly  coming  out  of  the  teepes,  and  mounting  the 
horses  that  stood  saddled  at  the  doors.  By  an  hour 
after  sunrise  most  of  the  men  had  disappeared,  but 
by  this  time  the  camp  had  begun  its  movement.  The 
pack-animals  being  loaded,  the  women  mounted  their 
ponies,  and  each  lamily  struck  out  in  its  own  direc- 
tion, and  marched  by  itself,  the  only  apparent  care 
being  to  prevent  the  loose  pack-animals  of  difterent 
families  from  mixing  together.  "When  the  front  of 
this  column  had  got  probably  two  miles  from  me,  it 
was  quite  a  mile  in  width,  and  even  yet  in  the  camp, 
squaws  were  striking  teepes,  and  packing  ponies. 

On  unusually  level  ground,  and  also  in  very  rough 
and  diflicult  country,  where  the  raiige  of  vision  is  re- 
stricted, the  Indians  set  up  small  mounds  of  stones. 
On  the  level  mesas  overlooking  the  precipitous  can- 
ons of  Lower  Kansas,  on  the  Uncompagrc,  and  other 
(so-called)  valleys  of  Colorado;  in  Utah,  in  the  broken 
ground  of  the  Laramie  Plains,  and  all  over  the  vast 
and  difficult  country  north  and  east  of  the  North 
Platte  River,  wherever  the  sameness  of  the  water- 
worn  steppes  presents  no  natural  distinctive  mark, 
such  cairns  are  to  be  found. 

I  have  heard  many  ingenious  and  far-fetched  sur- 
mises as  to  their  object.  It  is  simply  to  establish  a 
sequence  of  landmarks  indicating  the  best  route,  and 
this  purpose  they  serve  admirably,  not  only  in  sum- 


ii 


mimiA 


Mm 


558 


INGENIOUS   DEVICE. 


mer,  but  in  winter,  when  snow  has  oblitoratccl  every 
other  distinguishing  mark.  They,  of  course,  only 
serve  their  purpose  in  open  ground,  where  they  can 
be  seen,  one  from  the  other. 

In  timbered  countries,  so  far  north,  or  so  elevated, 
as  to  be  subject  to  deep  and  long-continued  snows, 
stones  will  bo  found  placed  in  the  forks  and  branches 
of  the  trees,  on  each  side  of  the  route  or  trail,  which 
when  buried  in  snow,  could  not  be  followed  except  by 
this  simple  device. 

The  Indian  travels  comparatively  little  at  night, 
never  from  choice,  as  he  is  unable  to  see  his  land- 
marks. When  advancing  on  an  enemy  whom  he 
hopes  to  surprise,  or  when  escaping  from  too  vigorous 
a  pursuit,  he  overcomes  this  repugnance,  and  trui^ting 
to  his  instinct,  gets  along  just  as  well,  though  not  so 
comfortably. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

TRAn.rNTr — TXBFAX  EXPKUTXESS  IX  READIXCr  "STGX" 
—  THE  WOXDEUFL'L  CAHEKU  OF  PEDIIO  ESPIXOSA. 


A  Sav.'ijro  Art  —  Expert  Tr.'iihu's  —  Fronticrsmon  .iml  Tmlians — An 
Iniiuitublo  Faculty  —  Moxiean  Competitors  —  Tho  Beat  Trailer  I 
ever  Saw  —  Pedro  Espinosa  —  A  V'onilcrfiil  Career  —  Captured  in 
Childhood  —  Made  a  Warrior  at  Thirteen — Suspected  by  Ills  Cap 
tors  —  Leai'in,;;  a  Sava<re  Life  —  Nin(((een  Years  of  Captivity  —  A 
Fortunate  Hear  Hunt  —  Tlie  Midnijj;ht  Fli<j;lit  —  Entrusted  with  Union 
Dispatclu's  —  Arrested  and  Shot  by  the  Enemy  —  Thrilling  Reminis- 
cences—  Pursuit  of  Conianehes  —  Six  Days  on  the  Trail  —  An  Excit- 
ing Manmuvro  —  Indian  Tactics  —  Cunning  and  Skill  —  The  Wrong 
Scent  —  Scouting  for  Apaches  —  Tho  Fresh  Track — A  Successful 
Ruse  —  Every  ^[an  for  Himself — An  Extraordinary  Feat  —  Chey- 
ennos  at  Bay  —  Major  Munck's  Victoiy  —  Tho  Pawneo  Guide. 


)MOXG  frontier  wliitcs,  the  term  trail 
is  loosely  and  widely  applied  to  any 
definite  mark  left  on  the  gronnd,  other 
than  a  road.  Thns  a  wagon  train 
going  aeross  conntry  really  makes  a 
t'/T^^^^rS^  road,  hut  its  track  is  hahitually  called 
^^^  ^  trail,  until  use  has  beaten  it  into  a 
I  ^  road.  Indeed,  a  few  of  the  most  prom- 
ment  roads  of  the  frontier  always  retain  this  desig- 
nation, and  it  is  common  to  hear  men  speak  of  the 
"Old  Santa  Fe  trail,"  "the  California  trail,"  "the 
Salt  Lake  trail,"  though  the  routes  so  designated 
have  been  for  many  years  thoroughly-beaten  and 
well-travelled  roads.  The  most  noted  of  these  was 
the  "California  trail,"  reaching  from  Leavenworth, 

559 


I 


.;/ 


Uiak 


■I 


t       v-Tl'- 


560 


ATTACKING   A   STAGE. 


Kansas,  to  Sacramunto,  a  distance  of  near  two  thou- 
sand miles,  through  a  wilderness,  ahnost  every  foot 
of  which  was  infested  with  hostile  Indians. 

For  twelve  or  fifteen  years  this  trail  was  daily 
travelled  by  stages,  and  many  of  the  most  thrilling 
and  tragic  episodes  of  frontier  life  arose  from  the 
constant  efforts  of  the  savages  to  capture  these  stages. 

The  drivers  were  heroes;  and  though  each  stage 
carried  a  small  guard  of  soldiers,  passengers  who  had 
"no  stomach  for  the  fray  "  were  out  of  place  on  the 
California  trail. 

Scarcely  a  week  passed  but  a  stage  was  attacked. 
Occasionally  one  was  waylaid,  the  horses  shot  down, 
the  guards  and  passengers  killed  in  fight  or  captured 
and  subjected  to  horrible  tortures. 

One  of  the  most  exciting  of  frontier  scenes  was  a 
running  fight  between  a  stage-load  of  guards  and 
passengers  and  a  horde  of  mounted  savages.  In  such 
contests  the  savages  were  generally  beaten  off. 

In  the  wilder  regions  of  conntiy,  where  there  are 
no  roads,  the  term  "trail"  is  applied  by  Indians  and 
frontiersmen,  alike  to  the  old  beaten  paths  Avorn  by 
the  feet  of  their  ponies  and  the  dragging  lodge-poles, 
and  to  the  track  or  spoor  of  any  animal.  These  are, 
however,  differently  designated,  the  beaten  track 
being  habitually  spoken  of  as  an  "  old  trail."  AVhen, 
tlierefore,  an  Indian  or  frontiersman  speaks  of  a  trail, 
he  habitually  means  the  marks  left  on  the  ground  by 
the  recent  passage  of  an  animal  or  party. 

"  Sign  "  in  frontier  language  means  any  evidence 
that  something  has  been  on  that  ground.  The  ashes 
of  a  fire,  fragments  of  clothing,  an  empty  can,  foot- 
prints of  men  or  animals,  all  are  "  sign."  A  trail  is  a 
succession  of  these  marks   or   signs.     A  "  trail  "  is 


(/I 

r. 
c 

0 
K 
^^ 

c 


> 


r. 
7^ 

C 
V 

s 

K 

C 
X 

R 

C 


r 

r 
c 
> 
r. 


rvmnw^ 


111 


ou- 


foot 


daily 


•ill 


inj 


the 

fagcs. 

jtage 

had 

the 


'ked. 
own, 
urod 


vas  a 

I  and 

such 


are 


md 

by 


arc. 


ac 


k 


iicn, 

i-ail, 

by 


Mice 

shcs 

30t- 


18 


I'll! 


i 


i  II'" 


!'       1  I'.' 


J1  isii-iiV'iMl 


t    ,;, 

'A,  •  A'^ 

f    .'l"'| 

w^^mimmm^-^ 


i 


^  1  lUi'f  4  WipipipiippiMilip 


*'v;c-',>-.:?'rv' 


^^ 


^mi 


TRAILERS. 


563 


made  up  of  sign,  but  sign  is  by  no  means  a  trail. 
Feeding  deer  or.  scratching  turkeys  make  sign,  but  it 
may  be  impossible  to  trail  them.  There  may  be  an 
abundance  of  sign  in  and  about  an  abandoned  camp^ 
yet  if  those  who  made  it  are  moving  cautiously,  it  may 
take  the  keenest  eye,  the  closest  scrutiny,  and  the 
utmost  limits  of  this  knowledge  to  detect  the  trail  by 
which  they  left  it.  The  safety  of  a  party  may  depend 
on  the  proper  reading  of  a  "  sign; "  the  success  of  a 
pursuit  depends  almost  entirely  on  the  ability  of  the 
pursuer  to  work  out  "  trail." 

Trailing  is  the  art  of  evolving  trail  from  sign.  The 
requisites  of  a  good  trailer  are  sharp  eyes,  perfect 
knowledge  of  the  appearance  and  character  of  the 
sign  made  by  whatever  is  being  trailed;  and,  when 
trailing  Indians,  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  country 
and  the  habits  of  the  Indians. 

To  all  people  who  live  on  the  frontier,  or  in  a 
sparsoly  settled  country,  some  knowledge  of  trailing 
is  absolutely  necessary.  A  pony  strays,  or  a  cow 
fails  to  come  home.  There  are  no  neighbors  of  whom 
inquiries  can  be  made,  or  who  might  take  up  the 
runaway.  It  must  be  hunted  up,  and  this  can  only 
be  done  surely  by  its  trail.  There  seems,  however,  to 
be  a  lack  of  capacity  on  the  part  of  the  white  man  to 
become  really  expert  in  trailing,  and  this  is  not 
necessarily  due  to  lack  of  early  training,  for  white 
men  who  have  been  captured  when  boys,  and  lived 
with  the  Indians  until  maturity,  are  and  always  remain 
comparative  bunglers. 

Ignoring  the  savage  talent  at  its  command,  the 
government  keeps  numbers  of  these  white  (so-called) 
gnides  and  trailers  in  its  employ.  In  over  thirty-two 
years'  experience  I  have  never  yet  seen  one  who  was 

36 


.^A 


■■jV'!!^ 


\*f'.-  ■  %   ,-<■■■•.•(■■  ■■  Tj-;-':  >ir.^:-r --ff-  J.  '-'>^'-.     V    ,,^  ^»  ^^■.,»ty.^-:);,l..-;>OY>- J  . 


■  %•■:*»/• 


564 


ESPIXOSA. 


better  than  a  mere  scliooD^oy,  when  compared  with 
Indian  trailers.  "Were  there  any  meaning  in  the 
common  cry  of  "  efficiency  and  economy  "  .something 
might  be  done  in  this  direction. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  Mexicans,  under  favorable 
circumstances,  develop  this  faculty  in  a  degree  so 
marvellous  as  to  be  Avonderful  even  to  the  Indians 
themselves.  As  a  rule  they  are  hot  remarkable 
either  for  courage  or  for  veracity,  but  as  trailers, 
guides,  packers,  they  are  invaluable. 

The  best  trailer  I  ever  saw  was  a  Mexican,  and  he 
was  also  remarkable  as  abounding  in  the  simple  manly 
vii'tues. 

Pedro  Espinosa  was  born  about  the  year  1810  in  a 
little  ranche  on  the  banks  of  the  Rio  Grande,  near 
the  village  of  Laredo.  When  he  was  about  nine 
years  old  this  ranche  Avas  captured  by  a  raiding  band 
of  Comanches,  all  the  inhabitants  put  to  death  Avith 
the  usual  Indian  accompaniments  of  horror,  ex'cept  a 
numl)er  of  children  of  both  sexes,  who  were  carried 
into  captivity. 

On  reaching  the  home  encampment  of  the  trilie 
these  child'-en  Avere  adopted  into  it,  but  thcmgh 
generally  treated  as  Indian  children,  Avere  carefully 
Avatched.  When  about  thirteen  years  of  age,  Es- 
pinosa Avas  pei'mi^^^ted  to  accompany  a  Avar  party  on  a 
raid  against  the  Tonkaways,  and  so  distinguished 
himself  that  he  Avas  made  a  Avai-rior.  Within  a  few 
years  he  became  a  distinguished  and  prominent  man. 

But  though  apparently  thoroughly  a  Comanche 
Indian;  though  liaA'ing  scA'eral  avIax'S  and  a  numerous 
family;  though  fighting  Avith  l;he  braA'"est,  stealing 
Avith  the  most  crafty,  and  committing  outrages  with 
the   most   cruel;   though   taking    part   in   all   then" 


rli  >.t!-<i*i^  if^ii 


^mtfijffnigffmm 


•»M;»^i-a,'^ 


w* 


...li-iPUl- 


^■t-  ■  j'-'^v."!-;.'"  '^"r''':^' ■"■^j'j.."^'3 ii 


ESCAPE. 


665 


councils  and  ceremonies,  and  identified  with  all  their 
interests,  he  had  never  foi-gotten  his  native  land,  nor 
foi'giveu  the  violation  and  murder  of  his  mother.  He 
hated  the  Indians  and  their  ways  with  the  most  hitter, 
unrelenting  hatred,  and  his  heart  yearned  for  return 
to  his  own  country  and  people. 

AYhethcr,  in  spite  of  most  careful  dissimulation,  he 
revealed  something  of  this  feeling,  or  from  the  craft 
and  suspicion  natural  to  the  Indian  character,  no 
opportunity  was  ever  given  him  to  carry  his  designs 
into  effect.  Though  a  dozen  or  more  raids  were 
made  yearl}'  into  Mexico,  he  was  never  permitted  to 
be  one  of  a  party  that  went  near  the  Rio  Grande. 

Among  his  other  accomplishments  Espinosa  was  a 
most  successful  l)ear-hunter.  The  Guadalope  Moun- 
tains (now  in  Texas)  were  then  as  now,  infested  by 
great  numbers  of  these  animals;  and  when  Espinosa 
had  been  with  the  Indians  nineteen  years,  he  was 
permitted  to  go  with  a  party  to  those  mountains  on  a 
bear-hunt. 

One  night  when  the  other  Indians  were  asleep,  he 
crawled  among  the  horses,  selected  the  best  two, 
without  regai'd  to  ownership,  and  by  morning  had 
put  many  miles  between  himself  and  his  late  com- 
panions. 

After  a  long  journey  he  arrived  safely  at  Laredo, 
where,  the  memories  of  his  boyhood  being  perfect,  he 
soon  made  himself  known  to  his  relatives.  In  course 
of  time  he  married  and  settled  down,  and  when  I 
knew  him  he  was  a  useful  and  honored  member  of 
the  community  in  which  he  lived. 

Utterly  ignorant  of  all  civilized  knowledge,  he  was 
full  of  wisdom  in  all  that  pertained  to  his  own  mode 
of  life.     Brought  up  a  thief,  he  was  honest  and  fn.itli- 


m 


W^-- 

;.*i^; 


.A. 


■ 


w'**c  >.-»i>j^\iiS>^id^'<^J.'-: 


■•»— "■^W"^ 


''S'Wi 


566 


HIS   DEATH. 


ful.  Though  nineteen  years  of  his  life  had  been 
passed  amid  the  crime,  horror  and  Ucentiousness  of 
savage  Ufe,  he  was  a  firm  friend,  a  kind  and  loving 
husband  and  father,  a  gentle,  affectionate,  loveable 
man. 

In  18J:9  I  commenced  my  "  Plains  "  life  at  Fort 
Lincoln,  Texas,  not  on  the  Plains,  but  on  a  military 
line  established  to  protect  the  southern  settlements 
of  Texas  from  the  incursions  of  the  Plains  Indians. 
Covering  the  Bandera  and  other  much-used  passes 
of  the  Guadalope  Mountains,  Fort  Lincoln  was  an 
important  position;  and  it  was  extremely  necessary 
that  a  thciojghly  competent  and  reliable  man,  well 
posted  in  all  the  wiles  of  the  Indians,  should  be 
selected  as  guide  and  trailer  for  the  troops  stationed 
there.  The  choice  fell  on  Espinosa.  For  many 
years  he  served  the  government  Avell  and  faithfully, 
and  at  last  yielded  up  his  life  in  fidelity  to  it. 

In  18(31,  when^the  traitor  Twiggs  had  planned  and 
was  consummating  the  surrender  of  all  the  troops  and 
material  of  war  in  Texas,  Espinosa  was  selected  to 
carry  dispatches  from  Union  inen  in  San  Antonio, 
to  Cohmel  Reeve,  then  on  his  way  to  the  coast  with 
a  con.mand,  notifying  him  of  the  condition  of  affairs, 
and  warning  him  to  turn  back,  and  try  to  reach  the 
states  by  way  of  Santa  Fe.  While  executing  this 
office,  Espinosa  was  captured  by  some  of  the  forces 
sent  to  intercept  Reeve,  and  the  dis])atches  found  on 
his  person.  After  reading  them,  his  captors  drew 
their  pistols  and  shot  him  to  death. 

Espinosa  has  yet  a  warm  j^lace  in  my  affection. 
He  guided  me  in  my  first  Indian  fight;  he  gave  me 
my  first  lessons  in  plains-craft,  and  in  hunting  for 
large  game. 


-.  fe-iili,"^-!^'...   I.U*.    ■'"r 


..■*\ViL'rA=V' 


^?3eSB«»^JC».'#«i»rtw«SW«»f*^^ 


WONDERFUL   SKILL. 


567 


As  a  trailer  he  was  a  marvel,  even  to  the  Indians 
themselves;  and  cautious  and  skilful  as  might  be  the 
pursued,  it  seemed  impossible  to  hide  a  trail  from  the 
ti'aincd  eyes  of  this  remarkable  man.  One  or  tAvo  of 
his  exploits  will  show,  better  than  any  description,  to 
what  skill  a  trailer  may  attain. 

I  was  once  sent  in  pursuit  of  a  party  of  murdering 
Comanches,  who  had  been  pursued,  scattered,  and  the 
trail  abandoned  by  a  company  of  so-called  Texas 
rangers.  On  the  eighth  day  after  the  scattering,  Espi- 
nosa  took  the  trail  of  a  single  shod  horse.  AVhen  we 
were  faii-ly  into  the  rough,  rocky  Guadalope  Moun- 
tains, he  stopped,  dismounted,  and  pick  :l  up  from 
the  foot  of  a  tree  the  four  shoes  of  the  horse  ridden 
by  the  Indian.  With  a  grim  smile  he  handed  them 
to  me,  and  informed  me  that  the  Indian  intended  to 
hide  his  trail.  For  six  days  we  journeyed  over  the 
roughest  mountains,  turning  and  twisting  in  appar- 
ently the  most  objectless  way,  not  a  man  in  the  whole 
counnand  being  able  to  discover,  sometimes  for 
hours,  a  single  mark  by  which  Espinosa  might  direct 
himself.  Sometimes  I  lost  patience,  and  demanded 
that  he  show  me  what  he  was  following.  "Poco 
tiempo,"  (in  a  short  time),  he  would  blandly  answer, 
and  in  a  longer  or  shorter  time,  show  me  the  clear- 
cut  footprints  of  the  horse  in  the  soft  bank  of  some 
mountain  stream,  or  point  with  his  long  Aviping-stick 
to  most  unmistakable  "  sign  "  in  the  droppings  of  the 
horse.  Following  the  devious  windings  of  this  trail 
for  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  scarcely  ever  at 
a  loss,  and  only  once  or  twice  dismounting,  more 
closely  to  examine  the  ground,  he  finally  brought  me 
to  where  the  Indians  hati  reunited. 

Again  I  was  in  pursuit  of  a  party  of  Comanches, 


■u" 

:"*.«■>, 


■'if-' 


I 


•X  ■  ,-• 


"i^.-"*.  1  .■  -p:^,'  7 


^r'-'^-yv^r'ii'i] 


568 


THE   TKAIL   WORKED   OUT. 


soveral  Imnclrcd  strong.  On  reacliing  tlic  licad 
springs  of  the  Perdinalis  River,  I  f'auntl  tliat  tlie 
Indians  had  made  there  a  halt  of  several  days;  that 


the 


two  niile? 


leniity  lor  one  or  two  nnies  in  every  (Ureetion 
was  marked  with  th'^  footprints  of  grazing  horses; 
that  the  Indians  had  evidently  scattered  in  every  di- 
rection on  leaving,  and  set  fire  to  the  prairie  behind 
them.  In  despair  I  Avent  into  camp,  and  set  Espi- 
nosa  to  work  out  the  prol^lem.  At  night  he  I'c- 
turned,  unsuccessful  but  confident,  having  lal)oi'ed 
patiently  for  six  or  seven  hours.  Before  dawn  he 
was  out  again.  Aljoiit  eleven  o'clock  I  rode  out  on 
his  trail,  easily  followed  in  the  black  ashes,  and  found 
him  just  about  to  return  to  me.  lie  had  succeeded. 
We  returned  to  camp.  The  command,  all  ready, 
marched  in  rear  of  Espinosa  for  twelve  or  fifteen 
miles,  when  we  struck  the  trail  of  the  united  Indians. 
That  night  he  explained  how  he  had  managed. 
Going  down  the  river  from  the  cj;mping-ground  of 
the  Indians,  so  far  as  to  be  sure  he  was  beyond  the 
range  of  feeding-horses,  he  made  a  circuit,  the  camj) 
as  centre,  carefully  examining  the  ground.  He  soon 
discovered  "sign."  Dism(*Lnting  and  going  down 
on  his  hands  and  knees,  he,  with  his  breath,  blew 
away  the  light  ashes,  until  sufiicient  pi'ints  Avere 
found  to  show  the  dii'ection  of  the  trail.  Mountin«i: 
his  "horse,  he  continued  his  circuit,  finding  other 
"  sign,"  and  fixing  in  the  same  way  the  direction  of 
the  trails  which  diverged  from  each  other  like  lines 
from  the  centre  of  a  circle.  A  second  circuit  about 
four  miles  from  camp,  discovered  the  trails,  still 
diverging.  A  third  cii-cuit,  a  mile  and  a  half  Ijeyond 
the  last,  discovered  them,  as  he  antici[)ated,  converg- 
ing.    Carefully  taking  the  direction  of  three  or  four, 


w^^tm^f^^^'^^ 


;-Av>--*:V>>._3.;>2r,-i_nf;-u,  ■■Li:  iAfl^^.rA!^  ii^i:■ 


m^mw 


^m^ 


APACHE    SKILL. 


and  finding  they  all  i)ointc'd  to  a  common  centre,  ho 
fixed  the  direction  of  that  point  in  his  mind;  and  so 
beautiCnlly  was  the  whole  pi-oblcni  worked  out,  that 
if  he  had  been  one  of  the  Indians,  previously  in- 
structed where  to  go,  he  C(juld  not  have  gone  to  that 
point  more  directly- 

Tiieir  mode  of  life  and  natural  capacity  for  this 
kind  of  education,  make  all  Indians  wonderful  ti-ailers; 
and  although  even  the  })oorest  among  them  is  superior 
to  any  white  man,  the  tribes  and  individuals  diifer  in 
their  capabilities  as  trailers  in  a  degree  hardly  to  be 
expected.  The  northern  and  central  Plains  Indians 
are  comparatively  pooi*  trailers,  bulfalo  having,  nntil 
within  a  few  years,  l)een  their  means  of  support,  and 
its  pursuit  requiring  little  knoAvledge  of  trailing. 
Those  tribes  which  depend  for  their  daily  food  on 
small  animals  and  game,  become  expert  in  this  art. 

Of  all  tribes  which  inhabit  the  Plains,  the  small 
renniant  of  the  Delawares  are  pi-obably  the  most 
generally  expert,  tliongh  they  are  closely  enmlated 
by  the  Comanches.  Even  they,  however,  must  yield 
to  some  of  the  mountain  tribes.  I  doubt  if  any  In- 
dian ever  (juite  attained  the  perfection  attributed  to 
liis  heroes  by  Cooper,  though  some  of  the  feats  told 
of  the  Ajiaches  are  almost  as  marvellous. 

An  oflicer  of  the  Twenty-third  Infantry,  having  a 
small  force  of  soldiers,  and  some  Apache  guides,  was 
scouting  after  hostile  Apaches  in  Ai-izona.  To  be 
successful,  all  movements  of  troops  had  to  be  made 
at  night,  though  the  scouts  stealthily  spread  over  the 
country  by  day,  looking  for  trails.  One  afternoon,  a 
scout  came  in  and  reported  that  he  had  found  a  fresh 
trail,  which  he  believed  led  to  a  "  rancheria,"  or  vil- 
lage of  hostiles.     After  dark  the  command  moved. 


':M  I 


i 


^  1 


i  n  1 


&.^',.. 


570 


KNOWLEDGE  OF   TRAILINO. 


In  due  time  the  trail  was  found  and  carefully  fol- 
lowed, the  Indian  scouts  Avorking  out  the  devious 
route  of  the  hostiles,  through  rocks  and  thickets,  by 
feeling  the  ground  with  thtir  Jingers. 

There  was  a  halt  and  consultation  in  front,  and 
word  was  sent  back  to  the  oiHcer  in  connnand  that  a 
new  and  fresher  track  had  crossed  the  trail  they  were 
pursuing.  He  went  to  the  front.  Tlie  scouts  in- 
formed him  tliat  there  was  the  fresh  print  in  the  soft 
ground  of  a  naked  foot  on,  but  across,  the  general  di- 
rection of  the  ti'ail.  Blankets  were  procured,  and 
held  up  around  the  spot  as  a  screen.  A  match  was 
struck,  by  the  light  of  which  it  was  discovered  that 
the  new  footprint  was  that  of  a  bear.  Following 
the  original  trail,  before  daylight  the  "ranchei-ia" 
was  discovered  and  the  ollicer  was  enabled  to  make 
a  successful  attack. 

Trailing  is  a  most  important  and  necessary  pju't  of 
the  education  of  every  Indian.  AVithout  knowledge 
of  it  he  could  neither  disguise  his  own  trail,  or  follow 
with  any  certainty  the  trail  of  his  enemies,  and  in 
some  portions  of  t..^  country  he  would  most  certainly 
starve  if  he  could  not  read  "  sign."  lie  is  taught 
from  childhood  to  note  every  mark  on  the  ground, 
to  tell  what  made  it,  its  age,  and  everything  about  it 
of  importance  to  himself.  His  daily  life  as  a  hunter 
makes  him  thoroughly  conversant  with  the  habits  of 
game  anhnals.  Th(;se  and  a  pair  of  eyes  exquisitely 
sharpened  by  constant  use,  enable  him  confidently  to 
take  and  keep  a  trail,  where  a  white  mtm,  even  Avith 
sharp  eyes  and  some  practice,  Avould  only  see  an 
occasional  unmeaning  mark. 

In  the  i:)revious  chapter,  I  haA^e  stated  that  on  ordi- 
nary journeys  through  a  country  but  little  known  to 


!iffiiifim,irf(fjt^sm>Wi  K5Biw.M**''«»r»»«« 


Tl'^rr,' 71 


CLOSE   PUKSUIT. 


;7i 


Ibl- 


?? 


nini,  tlic  Indian  travels  by  "  landmarks."  A  knowl- 
edge of  this  peculiarity  greatly  facilitates  the  pur- 
suit, and  a  good  trailer,  especially  in  a  rough  and 
broken  country,  will  soon  so  locate  the  series  of 
landmarks  by  which  the  pursued  are  travelling  as  to 
be  able  when  entering  a  valley  or  basin,  to  tell  almost 
the  exact  spot  where  the  trail  will  leave  it.  When, 
therefore,  the  pursued  i-esorts  to  ruses  and  doubles, 
the  puisuer  wastes  no  time  in  carefully  tracking  him 
through  all  his  windings,  but  goes  at  once  to  where 
his  knowledge  tells  him  the  trail  will  pass,  there 
looks  for  it,  auA  linding  it,  pushes  on  with  renewed 
confidence.  The  pursued  may  spend  several  hours 
in  making  a  devious  trail,  which  the  pursuer  will  get 
over  in  as  many  minutes. 

Only  imminent  danger  will  force  such  an  Indian 
away  from  his  sequence  of  huidmarks.  When,  how- 
ever, he  finds  his  pui'suers  gaining  on  him, he  abandons 
it  at  once,  strikes  off  in  the  most  unexpected  and  er- 
ratic way,  resorting  to  every  jDossible  ruse,  keeping 
on  rocky  ground,  or  in  the  bed  of  a  brook,  to  delay 
or  baffle  the  pursuit.  If  these  foil,  the  party  agree 
upon  a  place  of  reunion,  fifty,  sixty,  or  a  hundred 
miles  away,  and  scatter  in  every  direction,  each  by 
himself,  satisfied  that  no  trailer  is  expert  enough  to 
follow  a  single  track  as  rapidly  as  it  can  be  made. 

The  hard  ground  of  the  high  prairie  is  peculiarly 
favorable  to  the  pursued;  and  the  ease  with  which  a 
horseman  can  travel  anywhere,  and  in  any  direction, 
renders  the  trailing  of  the  Plains  Indians  a  slow  and 
difficult  process.  It  is  not  at  all  remarkable  that  so 
many  arduous  pursuits  are  simply  waste  of  labor  and 
hoi'se-liesh,  for  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  i-ule  that  a 
party  of  raiding  warriors  cannot  be  overtaken  except 


I  - 


■' I 


li 


MM 


ii^ 


iiiii(l<iiiifi<iili'i 


572 


THE   NOKTIIEIIX   CIIEYEXXES. 


by  surprise.  Tlio  pursuit  of  a  Irilx^  or  villago  is  dif- 
ferent. EiK'Uinl)ered  with  the  Avoiueii,  eliilih'en,  bag- 
gage and  extra  stoek,  their  progress  is  necessarily 
slow,  and  tliey  eaunot  seattei*. 

The  most  extraordinary  feat  of  travel  and  pursuit 
witliin  my  knowledge  took  i)laee  in  September  and 
Oetober,  1878.  A  part  of  the  Nortiiern  Cheyennes, 
about  one  hundred  and  tAventy  men,  Avith  all  their 
Avonien  and  ehildren,  left  Fort  Tveno  in  the  India' 
Territory,  fought  their  way  through  one  line  of  ei 
vironing  troo[),s,  evaded  and  outran  two  other  lines. 

These  Indians,  eneumbei'ed  as  they  were,  travelled 
nearly,  if  not  quite,  three  hundred  miles  in  ten  days. 
They  uiarehed  in  open  order,  covering  a  belt  of  from 
three  to  eight  iniles  wide,  and  making  a  trail  on  the 
hard  prairie  so  slight  that  even  an  expert  trailer 
could  oidy  have  followed  it  with  dillieulty. 

After  theii-  last  fight  with  the  troops  (in  which 
Colonel  LcAvis  was  killed),  they  were  followed  by 
Maj(/i'  ]\[auck  and  his  cavalry  with  such  remorseless 
vig  r,  that  they  Avere  forced  into  the  settlements  of 
Ivai\sas  to  obtain  a  remount.  Ea'cu  Avith  this,  hoAV- 
evin',  they  Avere  barely  able  to  gain  the  shelter  of 
the  sand-hills  Avest  of  the  head  of  the  Loup,  Avhoi'e 
they  secreted  themseh'es  in  a  countiy  devoid  of  Avatcr 
except  a  fcAV  ponds  kuoAvn  only  to  themselves.  Ilei'o 
they  Avere  found  completely  exhausted,  by  troops  of 
the  Fourth  line,  and  captured. 

As  trailers,  Major  Mauck  had  a  number  of  Avhite 
guides,  and  one  invaluable  PaAvnee  Indian.  I'he 
Avhite  scouts  s^tivad  out  fan-like  far  in  advance, 
AA^atching,  and  following  the  trail  on  the  gi-ound. 
The  PaAvnee  traAxdled  on  his  knoAvledjj:e  of  the 
sequence  of  landmarks,  by  Avhich  the  Indians  used 


:--tf^,- 


:,'/:« 


.'>?  '  4-'^  :-:-4.  ii.-..'ij^4^*J^-'^ia  - 


wn^^"^ 


^^mm 


FEARS   FOR   HIS   REAR. 

forincvly  to  travol  thi-ough  tliis  couv.try,  and  though 
tht'  white  guides  were  (Vefiuently  tein[)orariIy  at  fault 
tlie  Indian  nevei*  hesitated  a  moment. 

The  weakness  of  the  Indian  is  his  trail  Could  lie 
^vi  rid  of  it,  he  would  be  uneonquei-ahle  exeept  by 
treachery.  Fortunately  for  his  enemies  he  knows  this 
weakness,  giving  it  pi'obably  too  nuieh  value.  Cun- 
ning, crafty,  secret,  swift,  and  endni-ing,  he  has  perfect 
confidence  in  himself  and  his  po\a'rs,  but  he  knows 
that  it  is  by  means  of  the  trail  that  he  gives  his 
enemy  the  most  effective  blows,  and  he  is  continually 
uneasy  lest  that  enemy  should  turn  the  tables,  and 
strike  him  by  the  same  means.  This  is  why  he  is  so 
bold  when  alone,  so  timid  when  with  a  party. 

A  raiding  party  of  Indians,  coming  to  a  recent 
trail  of  troops,  will  stop,  examine,  hesitate,  follow  it 
probably  for  miles.  Conclnding  finally  that  there  is 
no  serious  cause  for  alarm,  they  may  go  on  toward 
their  original  destination.  If  another  recent  ti'ail  of 
troops  be  struck  within  a  few  miles,  the  pai'ty  will 
most  probably  abandon  its  schemes  and  go  back.  This 
is  not  that  the  Indian  fears  to  bo  intercepted.  lie 
cares  nothing  for  the  strategical  disadvantage  of  an 
enemy  in  his  rear,  but  the  frequent  and  recent  trails 
show  the  presence  and  activity  of  the  troops.  These 
may  cross  his  trail  at  any  moment,  and  following  it, 
strike  him  by  surprise  in  his  camp. 

In  going  on  or  returning  from  a  raid,  he  cares 
nothing  for  advance  guards,  but  always  when  he  has 
cause  to  believe  there  is  danger,  some  of  the  most 
trusty  warriors  follow  on  the  trail  as  rear  guards, 
three  or  four  miles  behind  the  main  body.  Surprise 
is  destruction,  and  surprise  is  most  likely  to  come 
from  the  i-ear  and  by  means  of  his  trail. 


WW"!W 


rf^—    •     .'^tv  --igi^t-y^'    J-  .■ 


IJTSIIflHf,),;-.".*^*.'.  ■'  "^S« 


Myf^w.^ 


^*^'^!^nr 


I     '* 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

IXDIAX   HUXTEES  —  ADVEXTURES    OX   THE   PLAIXS  — ' 
EXCITING   SCEXES  —  THE   HAUXTS   OP   GAISIE. 

Tho  Best  Ilnntors  in  tlie  World  —  Tlieir  Stoaltli,  Cunning,  and  Endur- 
ance—  Getting  Position  —  "Many  a  Slip"  —  The  Lost  Ciiance  —  An 
Astonished  Indian  —  My  Successful  Shot  —  The  Indian's  Disgust  — 
The  "Pot-Shot"  — Exciting  Scenes  — Tlie  Buffalo  Surround  — The 
Sf[uare  Chase  —  Hunting  tl'e  Eliv  —  Cutting  the  Ilanistring — Butch- 
ered at  Leisure  —  The  "Good  Old  Times"  —  Terrified  Animals  — 
Fun  in  Mid-Winter  —  Traps  and  Snares  —  Luckless  Anglers  —  Abhor- 
rence of  Fish  —  The  Staked  Plains  —  Origin  of  tlio  Buffalo  —  A  Curious 
Superstition—  Stone  Calf  and  the  Legend  —  Lieutenant  Ogle  and  the 
Sioux  —  Preparing  for  the  Surround — Tlie  Onslaught — Discovery 
of  a  Fresh  Herd  —  The  Indians  Dissatisfied  —  Threatened  Attack. 

IS  stealth,  cunning,  endurance,  and 
knowledge  of  the  habits  of  animals, 
make  the  Indian  the  beat  hunter  in  the 
world,  but  as  a  rule  he  is  not  rcmai-kabb' 
successful.  Considering  the  advantages 
that  these  qualities  give  him,  he  is  not 
^  comparable,  as  a  game-killer,  to  the  white 
hunter  of  thj  frontier.  This  is  due  princi- 
pally to  the  fact  that  he  is  a  very  poor  shot, 
ammiuiition  being  far  too  scarce  and  valuable  to  be 
expended  in  practice,  and  partially  to  his  nervous  ex- 
citability *n  the  presence  of  game. 

An  Indian  will  spend  hours  patiently  and  stealthily 
seai-ching  for  game  in  its  probable  haunts  When 
found,  he  may,  if  it  is  not  in  a  position  favorable  to 

674 


mm^tmi^mmmmmm*''^''"'''''^'^^''' 


m 


wm^^ 


A  POT   HUNTER. 


575 


his  approach,  spend  other  hours  as  patiently  watch- 
ing it.  The  animal  finally  getting  into  good  position, 
he  crawls  silently  towards  it.  but  aAvare  of  his  defi- 
ciencies as  a  shot,  and  the  value  of  his  ammunition, 
and  wishing  to  make  "assurance  doubly  sure,"  he  al- 
ways tries  to  get  nearer,  and  yet  nearer,  frequently 
frightening  away  the  game  long  after  he  is  within 
point-blank  range.  Time  is  nothing  to  the  Indian. 
Having  a  fair  shot  at  a  deer,  within  a  hundred  yards, 
he  will  spend  an  hour  trying  to  reduce  the  distance  to 
seventy-five  yards,  then  another  hour  in  bringing  it 
down  to  fifty  yards.  Many  excellent  opportunities 
arc  thus  lost. 

Once,  when  out  hunting,  I  fired  at  a  splendid  buck, 
about  one  hundred  and  twenty  yards  from  me,  across 
a  little  prairie.  It  fell  dead,  when  apparently  from 
under  its  very  feet,  up  sprang  an  Indian.  He  was 
within  thirty  yards  of  it,  and  yet  trying  to  get  nearer. 
His  disgust  at  the  inopportuneness  of  my  shot  was 
only  equalled  by  his  astonishment  at  the  distance. 

The  bow  could  not  be  relied  on  to  kill  at  much 
over  thirty  yards,  and  until  the  introduction  of  the 
long-range  rifle,  the  large  mass  of  game  killed  by  In- 
dians was  within  twenty  yards.  Even  now  fifty  or 
sixty  yards  is  a  long  shot  at  any  animal,  except  ante- 
lope. 

The  Indian  is  an  avaricious  hunter.  Let  him  get 
within  his  own  distance  of  a  single  animal,  and  he  is 
almost  sure  to  get  it;  but  if  several  animals  are  to- 
gether, he  is  always  hoping  that  his  "medicine"  is 
good  enough  to  secure  him  a  "pot-shot,". from  which 
he  will  get  several  or  all.  Aiming  now  at  one,  now 
at  another,  again  at  a  bunch,  he  will  work  himself  into 
such  a  state  of  excitement,  that  the  chances  are  two 


■i;iiv*y 


"'IIJU^IPIW^IV'  I 


11     . 


!i 


576 


CARE   OF   BUFFALO. 


to  one  that  he  becomes  incautious  and  frightens  the 
game,  or  firing,  misses  all. 

In  the  mere  hunting  (finding  and  ai)proaehing 
game)  there  is  as  little  difference  between  Indians  as 
in  their  riding;  but  in  success  in  bagging  it,  individ- 
uals and  tribes  differ  in  a  remai'kable  degree,  those 
tribes  which  depended  on  the  buffalo  having  indiffer- 
ent success  with  smaller  game. 

The  pursuit  of  the  buffalo  was,  after  w^ar,  the  noblest 
excitement  of  the  Plains  Indian,  but  the  slaughter  of 
this  animal  was  accomplished  differently  by  different 
tribes. 

Even  when  buffalo  were  plentiful,  they  were  care- 
fully protected  by  the  Middle  Plains  Ti'ibes,  no  indi- 
vidual warrior  of  Cheyennes  or  Arrapahoes  being 
permitted  to  ride  into  or  after  a  herd,  or  even  to  shoot 
an  animal  unless  it  was  alone,  or  tlic  herds  were  mov- 
ing. All  were  required  to  keep  away  from  herds 
which  were  stationary,  and  thousands  of  buffalo 
might  thus  remain  in  the  close  vicinity  of  an  Indian 
camp  for  weeks,  when  half  a  dozen  white  men  would 
have  frightened  them  all  away  in  a  few  days. 

In  Chapter  XXII.  I  have  given  a  description  of 
what  was  but  a  very  few  years  ago  the  most  excit- 
ing scene  of  savage  life,  the  "surround"  of  the  buf- 
falo. 

So  far  as  I  am  able  to  ascertain,  either  from  writers 
or  by  questioning  Indians,  the  "surround"  of  buffalo 
was  peculiar  to  the  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoes.  The 
Dacotas,  an  exceptionally  improvident  people,  take  no 
care  of  the  buffalo.  Two  or  three  youngsters,  out  on 
a  hunt,  find  a  herd,  and  dashing  into  it,  take  great 
credit  to  themselves  for  killing  one  or  two  each ;  an 
act  which   among  the  Cheyennes  would  have  been 


,, :  jiiwsw/pjitSMJff.tW*"?*  J: 


m^^fw" 


m^mi 


m 


lie 

IO- 
CS 

las 

r 

ise 
r- 


HAMSTRINGIXG  ELK. 


577 


rewarded  with  a  whipping,  such  as  they  would  re- 
member with  terror  all  their  lives. 

Even  in  the  great  flill  hunt,  the  Sioux  make  no 
"surround,"  but  rely  for  their  meat  and  skins  on  a 
square  chase  of  the  herd.  The  Ci-ows,  and  some  other 
lar-northern  ti'ibes,  are  said  to  be  as  improvident  as 
the  Sioux,  and  kill  the  buffalo  in  the  same  way. 

The  Pawnees  were  famous  for  making  (2uasl  "sur- 
rounds,'" driving  the  buffalo  over  precipices,  and  kill- 
ing immense  numbers,  many  of  which  spoiled  before 
the  women  could  perform  their  work  upon  them. 

The  Kiowas  and  Comanches  almost  invariably  used 
the  lance  in  their  chases  after  buffalo,  a  weapon  all 
the  more  deadly  because  it  was  silent. 

Surrounds  of  elk  were  made  in  much  the  same  way 
by  the  middle  Plains  Indians.  One  or  two  small 
fragments  of  tribes  now  living  in  the  Indian  Terri- 
tory used  formerly  to  be  wonderfully  successful  in 
killing  elk  on  horseback.  Each  hunter  was  armed 
with  a  long  pole,  light  but  strong,  the  smaller  end  of 
which  was  split  and  forced  open  for  about  a  foot, 
forming  a  Y.  About  six  inches  from  the  open  end 
Avas  fastened  a  knife-blade,  sharpened  to  the  keenest 
edge,  and  set  diagonally  in  the  Y,  the  whole  being 
secured  and  strengthened  Avith  raw-hide. 

A  herd  being  discovered,  the  hunters  approach 
against  the  Avind,  and  dash  suddenly  upon  the  fright- 
ened beasts,  Avhich,  confused  by  the  onslaught,  and 
having  no  leader,  crowd  together.  Eunniu-  up  be- 
hind an  elk  the  hunter  sets  the  crotch  of  his  pole 
against  the  hind  leg  just  above  the  knee.  A  sharp 
push  severed  the  hamstring.  The  other  leg  Avas 
quickly  served  in  the  same  Avay,  and  the  game 
secured. 


? 
) 


; 


l\ 


ii 


iiiiarjaitjynijijjiiiitiji 


,     .  J;|||ip!|.|P|lippi 


578 


CIVILIZATION   VS.   GAME. 


The  mountain  Indians  make  a  sort  6f  suiToimcl  of 
elk  in  winter  which  is  said  to  be  very  successful. 
During  the  deep  snows,  this  animal  collects  in  gi-ent 
herds  on  the  high  exposed  slopes  from  which  the 
w^ind  has  driven  the  snow.  A  herd  being  discovered 
in  such  position,  the  Indians  creep  around,  and  drive 
them  into  a  deep  snow-drift,  where  they  are  butchered 
at  leisure. 

The  Utes  are  said  to  make  "  suri'ounds  "  of  ante- 
lope, but  I  do  not  know  how  it  is  done. 

But  all  this  was  in  the  "  good  old  times."  Except 
those  far  north  between  the  Missouri  River  and  the 
British  line,  which  have  been  protected  from  the  in- 
satiable "  pot-hunter  "  by  an  envii'onment  of  savage 
tribes,  the  buffalo  is  practically  extinct. 

Civilization  has  laid  its  hand  on  many  of  the  best 
hunting-grounds.  The  "  Republican  coiuitry  "  (all 
that  between  the  Platte  and  xVrkansas  Rivers),  wliich, 
only  eight  short  years  ago  was  a  veritable  hunter's 
paradise,  teeming  with  animal  life,  is  now  dotted 
with  farms  and  villages. 

In  May,  1871,  I  drove  in  a  light  wagon  along  the 
Arkansas  River,  Irom  Walnut  Creek  to  Pawnee  Fork, 
through  one  herd  of  buffalo,  not  less  than  twenty-five 
miles  wide,  and  extending  north  and  south  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach.  On  the  very  ground  on  which 
Larned  City  now  stands,  I  one  day  in  pure  Avanton- 
ness  gave  chase  in  my  light  wagon  to  a  herd  of 
buffalo,  and  bagged  two. 

All  the  large  game  is  rapidly  going  with  the  buf  • 
falo.  Civilization  crowds  them  into  restricted  areas, 
where  they  are  set  upon  by  the  "  pot-hunter,"  and 
the  carcasses  whirled  off  to  Eastern  markets. 

Until  within  a  few  years  the  Plains  Indian  hunted 


rjSj¥9.!SS«*r*3«f:^«»*««W*' 


)f 
111. 

nt 

lie 
'd 
'e 

id 


■ '^?^j^*?psw»ET#'^'!'™r' 


BAGGIITG  ANTELOPE. 


579 


the  smaller  animals,  deer  and  antelope,  as  the  white 
sportsman  hunts  them,  more  for  pleasure  than  from 
actual  need  of  the  proceeds.  The  hunting  was  done 
on  horseback,  and  only  when  he  felt  like  it.  Now 
the  Indian  is  forced  into  competition  with  profes- 
sional white  hunters,  armed  with  the  most  improved 
weapons.  To  secure  game  no^v  he  must  work. 
AYhat  he  lacks  in  skill  as  a  shot,  he  tries  to  make  up 
by  care  and  patience  in  the  hunt  itself  Creeping 
noiselessly  as  a  snake  through  thickets  and  jungle,  or 
with  his  head  covered  by  a  cap  of  weeds  or  grass, 
crawling  on  his  belly  across  the  bare  prairie,  he  will 
spend  the  whole  day  in  labor  that  no  white  man 
would  stand.  lie  is  very  susceptible  to  cold,  and  in 
winter  hunts  very  litt!:^  only  wdien  forced  to  it  by 
actual  hunger. 

Late  in  the  fall,  antelope  collect  in  herds,  hundreds, 
even  thousands,  running  together  like  sheep.  Of  late 
years,  that  is,  since  he  obtained  the  breech-loading 
rifle,  such  a  herd  is  a  true  godsend  to  the  Indian. 

Riding  slowly  and  carefully  as  near  as  jjossible  to 
the  herd  without  alarming  it,  he  suddenly  dashes  in, 
and  riding  almost  among  the  terrified  animals,  pumps 
his  bullets  into  them  until  his  ammunition  is  expended, 
or  his  horse  tired  out.  The  antelope  crowd  together 
in  their  fright  and  present  a  mark  not  easy  to  miss. 
Eight  or  ten  antelope  is  not  an  unusual  number  for  a 
good  hunter  to  bag  from  a  large  herd,  in  one  such 
chase. 

I  have  never  yet  seen  a  trap,  pitfall,  springe,  or 
other  device  for  taking  game  which  might  be  sus- 
pected of  being  native  to  the  Indian.  I  may  even  go 
further  and  assert,  that  (except  the  common  steel 
trap)  I  have  never  seen  or  personally  known  of  any 

36 


■f     ^:'T, 


580 


NOT  FISH-EATERS. 


trap  being  used  by  any  Indian  of  any  tribe  with  which 
I  have  come  in  contact.  I  once  thought  this  peculiar 
to  the  Plains  tribes,  and  due  to  the  fact  that  having 
an  abundance  of  hirge  game,  easily  killed  with  bow 
or  lance,  their  inventive  faculty  was  never  stimulated 
by  necessity. 

Wider  experience  has  convinced  me  that  this  lack 
of  inventive  faculty  is  not  confined  to  the  Plains  In- 
dians. Many  of  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  the  fur- 
beai-ing  regions  in  the  north  are  now  good  trappers, 
but  the  art  is  not  natural  to  them,  having  been  ac- 
quired from  long  intercourse  with  the  old  French 
trappers.  Some  few  of  the  occupants  of  the  Plains, 
as  the  Delavvares,  are  good  trappers,  but  they  are 
merely  imitators,  using  civilized  traps  exclusively. 

Most  of  the  tribes  of  the  Pacific  coast  and  on  the 
waters  of  the  Colnmbiu  and  other  great  western 
streams,  and  some  of  the  northern  tribes  east  of  the 
Mississippi,  have  traps  and  baskets  for  catching  fish. 
But  the  southern  Plains  tribes  have  no  such  appli- 
ances. A  few  fish  are  killed  by  lance  or  arroAvs,  but 
until  within  a  very  few  years,  these  Indians  had  no 
knowledge  of  angling  with  line  and  hook.  They  are 
not  fish-eaters,  preferring  even  ofi'al. 

"When  the  Cantonment  (Indian  Territory)  was  first 
established,  an  Indian  would  gladly  exchange  a 
beautiful  bass  of  three  or  four  pounds,  for  a  pound  of 
bacon  or  sugar.  They  have  leai'ued  better  now,  and 
though  they  will  not  eat  the  fish  themselves,  they  ask 
a  higher  price  for  it. 

The  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoes  have  a  curious  tra- 
dition, or  rather  a  religious  superstition,  regarding  the 
bufi\ilo.  They  believe  that  these  animals  are  created 
within  the  bowels  of  the  earth;  that  every  year,  wht  :\ 


/pW^V.'JWK^S*^*  fK-rvf^ 


WT-- 


-■^  1-*,  'M-^c,  -.■-■•'.v^  ■■c'.5yiT»T,t.<-\'w,tT;'T--;frr^i*!, .  ■.-,     " 


ORIGIN   OF   THE   BUFFALO. 


581 


the  young  grass  appears,  herds  of  thousands  pour 
DUt  of  two  holes  in  the  ground,  and,  under  the 
direction  of  the  Good  God,  depart  on  their  long 
journeys  to  the  countries  of  those  tribes  whom  he 
desires  especially  to  flivor,  or  who  have  the  most  po- 
tent medicine  men.  They  believe  that  these  holes 
are  on  the  "Staked  Plains,"  south  of  the  Cana- 
dian, and  east  of  the  Pecos;  and  there  are  now 
living,  men  of  both  these  tribes,  who  will  take  oath 
after  their  most  solemn  forms,  that  they  have  been  to 
the  spot,  and  seen  the  buftalo  coming  out  in  countless 
throngs. 

I  have  once  or  twice  mentioned  "  Stone  Calf,"  a 
chief  of  the  Southern  Cheyennes,  intelligent  and 
influential.  He  is  not  a  good  Indian  from  the 
"  Ring  "  standpoint,  as  he  submits  to  starvation  and 
imposition  with  a  very  bad  grace.  Last  spring 
(1880),  when  begging  for  food,  and  urging  me  to 
permit  him  to  go  to  the  "  Staked  Plains  "  for  buffalo, 
he  assured  me  most  solemnly  that  he  knew  where 
these  holes  are,  and  would  be  able  to  get  all  the 
buffalo  he  wanted. 

I  attempted  to  rally  him  on  the  absurdity  of  his 
belief,  but  found  myself  in  a  very  few  moments  in 
such  position  as  if  I  had  attempted  to  banter  a  High 
Churchman  on  his  belief  in  the  Trinity,  or  a  lioman 
Catholic  on  the  authenticity  of  a  miracle. 

He  was  in  real,  solid  earnest,  and  as  I  never  inter 
fere  in  the  religious  beliefs  of  people,  I  backed  down 
as  gracefully  as  possible. 

Wherever  the  buffalo  are  yet  to  be  found,  the  old 
rules  for  hunting  yet  obtain.  The  Indians  on  reserva- 
tions are  not  permitted  to  go  off  for  these  hunts,  with- 
out the  presence  of  an  officer  and   small  force  of 


i 


..I 


1! 


;);;;.■; 


"'Lr-'  V   .''lijiik.'^f^M''. 


■ih^mtamxt. 


i 


-h' 


"3E;- '" 


582 


LIEUTEXAXT   OGLE's   KEPORT. 


troops.  In  September,  1880,  a  party  of  Sioux  from 
the  Standing  Kock  Agency,  went  on  a  l)ulfal()  liunt, 
accompanied  by  Lieut.  Ogle  of  the  17th  Inlnntry,  and  a 
STiall  force.  I  append  a  synopsis  of  liis  re])ort,  sliow- 
ing  the  power  and  absolute  conliol  of  the  dog-scldiers 
and  the  general  ceremony  attending  this  (to  the 
Indian)  most  important  of  duties  and  exciting  of 
pleasures. 

"  The  Indians  conducted,  their  march  as  though 
invading  a  hostile  country.  A  large  number  of  young 
men  were  appointed  soldiers  to  conduct  the  march 
and  hunt,  and  for  the  policing  and  protection  of  the 
camp.  These  men  had  their  faces  blackened.  Seventy- 
five  to  one  hundred  marched  on  either  flank,  fi'om  one- 
half  to  a  mile  from  the  main  body  and  parallel  to  it. 
They  were  mounted  on  the  best  ponies  and  looked 
like  a  body  of  cavalry.  About  a  dozen  unmounted 
men  walked  with  each  party,  and  were  known  as  '  the 
walking  chiefs.'  Another  party  of  walking  chiefs 
preceded  the  main  column  and  conducted  the  march. 
By  walking  they  were  enabled  to  determine  when 
the  women  and  children  were  tired,  and  the  marches 
were  short  and  the  halts  frequent. 

"About  dusk  the  runners  sent  out  the  night  before 
came  in  and  were  received  with  great  ceremony,  the 
Indians  collecting  in  a  circle  around  a  fire,  singi'  g, 
howling,  and  beating  on  tin  cans.  About  one  hundred 
of  the  best  mounted  young  men  diished  out  at  full  speed 
to  meet  them,  circling  around  them,  the  scene  repre- 
senting the  grand  entree  of  a  circus.  The  chief  em- 
braced the  runners  and  assisted  them  to  dismount. 
Then  a  smoke  was  taken  all  around,  and  after  three 
times  invoking  them  to  tell  the  truth  as  to  Avhat  they 
had  seen,  the  runners  spoke  for  the  first  tune.     The 


m 

(la 
|\v- 

Irs 

jhc 

of 


DISAGllEEAULE   DOG-SOLDIERS. 

report  of  buffalo  seen  croated  a  groat  excitement. 
The  Indians  were  forbidden  to  shoot,  and  some  un- 
lueky  ones  wlio  were  tempted  by  deer  and  antelope 
had  their  guns  taken  from  them,  and  were  soundly 
beaten  with  heavy  elubs,  their  ribs  being  b'.-oken 
in  some  eases.  On  the  2Gth  of  September,  camp  was 
formed  and  the  hunt  eonnneneed.  A  herd  of  seventy 
buflalo  was  surrounded  and  every  one  killed,  the 
Indians  claiming  them  all,  though  Lieut.  Ogle's  party 
joined  in  the  hunt. 

"  The  Indians  were  anything  l)ut  pleasant  compan- 
ions, and  very  disagi'eeable  masters;  and  they  issued 
orders  that  were  odious  to  the  white  men,  but  which 
they  thought  it  expedient  to  obey;  so  it  Avas  deter- 
mined to  leave  them  and  return  home  liy  Grand  River. 
To  this  the  Indians  objected,  and  declai'ed  that  if  the 
white  men  went  that  way  they  should  go  naked  and 
on  foot.  They  preferred  that  Lieut.  Ogle  and  party 
should  retui'ii  the  way  they  came,  but  wished  them  to 
renin i'-,  Avhich  they  did.  When  they  struck  a  herd 
the  next  day  the  Indians  claimed  It  for  themselves, 
but  suggested  that  an  old  bull  or  two  oft' on  the  i-ight 
would  furnish  excellent  sport  for  the  Avhites.  Follow- 
ing these  bulls,  they  Avere  fortunate  in  finding  a  large 
herd.  Fourteen  Avere  shot,  but  Avhen  a  party  Avero 
sent  for  the  robes  the  next  day,  it  was  found  that  the 
Indians  had  been  ahead  of  them.  The  next  day,  Sept. 
29,  liieut.  Ogle  returned  to  his  post  by  the  most 
direct  route.  At  this  time  the  Indians  had  killed 
tAVO  hundred  antelopes,  one  hundred  and  fifty  to  two 
hundred  buffiilo,  and  a  number  of  deer,  otter,  and 
beaver.  During  their  first  day's  run  many  accidents 
occurred,  eleven  Indians  being  throAvn,  and  one  having 
his  arm  broken.     Another  was  reported  shot." 


it, 


I 


. 


.-•^^iS-A'/:'.v*ij. 


■k-"W''='''-''nv"' 


CHAPTER  XLYI. 

DOMESTIC    A:N^IMALS  —  SPEED    AND     ENDURANCE     OF 
INDIAN   rONIES  —  ANECDOTES   AND   INCIDENTS. 

Indian  Stockbreeders  — Chief  Ouray's  Ambition  — "  Aniniiil-Stoalinn:" 
Tribes  —  U'lie  Clierokec  I'onies  —  An  Inseparable  Companion  —  Ponies 
a  Necessity,  Wives  a  Liixmy— Wiiero  "Blood"  Doesn't  Count  — 
Tlio  Expr(!ss  Rider  and  liis  Wonderfid  Pony  — The  Darinj?  Mail 
Carrier— Riding  by  Night  and  Hiding  by  Day  — A  IMarvellons 
Roadster  —  The  Indian's  Treatment  of  liis  Horse— An  Animated 
Skeleton  —  Browzing  on  Cottonwood  —  Tlie  Diet  of  Bark  —  Thrilling 
Chapter  in  Indian  History  —  Escape  from  the  Aj^u.icy  —  ^Marching 
like  Victors  —  Encounters  with  Troops  —  An  Ambuscade  —  Turning 
the  Tables  on  tlie  Uedmen  —  Col.  Lewis  Shot  —  Flight  of  the  Iinlians 
—  Horrors  of  the  Kansas  Raid  ~  IMunck's  Cavalry  Pursuit  —  Speed 
and  Endurance  —  Race  and  Trick  Animals  —  Tiie  War  Pony. 

HE  possession  of  domestic  animals  may 
be  regarded  as  an  exponent  of  civili- 
zation, the  number  and  variety  pos- 
sessed by  a  people  being  usually  in 
direct  proportion  to  its  advancement. 
Domestic  animals  indicate  stability, 
and  he  who  possesses  them  in  vari- 
ety must  have  a  home.  Indians  are  no 
exception  to  this  rule,  those  tribes  most 
advanced  being  best  off  in  this  respect,  and  vice 
versa. 

The  semi-civilized  tribes  of  the  Indian  Territory 
have  horses,  cattle,  sheep,  hogs,  and  every  animal 
ordinarily  domesticated  by  whites,  and  barnyard 
fowls  in  great  variety  and   abundance.     The   Zuni 

584 


I  f  I.     I 


Jes 


BREEDERS   AXD   STEAX.ERS. 


585 


and  other  Pueblo  Iiulians  own  and  breed  horses, 
cattle,  sheep,  goats,  dogs,  cats  and  chickens. 

The  wilder  Indians  who  })ossess  domestic  animals, 
may  fairly  be  divided  into  "animal-breeding"  and 
"animal-stealing"  tribes.  In  the  first-class,  the  Nav- 
ahoes  stand  pre-eminent,  owning  and  breeding  im- 
mense herds  of  horses,  asses,  sheep  and  goats.  They 
have  dogs,  but  no  cattle,  cats,  or  fowls.  Tiie  moun- 
tain Utes  asi)irc  to  emulate  the  Xavahoes,  but  as  yet 
only  a  few  individuals  have  met  with  success.  Ouray 
gi'catly  encouraged  this  business,  and  himself  pos- 
sessed large  herds  of  horses,  asses,  cattle  and  sheep. 

The  Plains  tribes  possess  and  breed  only  horses  and 
dogs,  the  mules  in  their  possession  being  invariably 
stolen,  or  purchased  from  other  tribes.  Many  of 
the  tribes  west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  particularly 
those  in  Eastern  Oregon  and  AVashington  Territoiy, 
breed  great  numbers  of  horses. 

Though  the  Apaches  habitually  own  and  occasion- 
ally breed  horses,  they  belong  proi)erly  to  the  "ani- 
mal-stealing" class.  They  live  in  a  country  so  totally 
devoid  of  all  the  ordinai-y  nccessai'ies  of  life,  that  dur- 
ing winter  almost  eveiy  hoi'se,  colt  and  mule  is  killed 
for  food.  In  spring  the  stock  is  replenished  at  the 
expense  of  their  neighbors. 

The  large  mass  of  the  tribes  between  the  Rocky 
and  coast  ranges  of  mountains,  neither  own  nor 
breed  horses.  They  are  excellent  at  stealing  these 
animals,  but  cither  from  ignorance  of  his  proper  use 
or  from  constant  craving  for  animal  food  they  no 
sooner  get  possession  of  a  horse  than  he  is  killed 
and  eaten. 

The  name  "Digger"  is  applied  loosely  to  a  number 
of  tribes  of  miserable  Indians  who  roam  about  the 


! 


ii 


mfm 


i1\  •  -' 


p  ' 


t .»[(!-- ^T'csr\>-v 


58G 


CHEROKEE   PONIES. 


deserts  of  Utah,  Nevada,  and  California,  or  live  in 
brush  huts  on  reservations.  These  a])[)ear  to  bo 
nearly  as  low  down  in  this  seale  of  humanity  as  it 
is  possible  to  be.  Their  food  is  prineipally  grass- 
hoi)i)ers,  green  or  dried.  They  have  no  domestic 
animals,  not  even  a  dog. 

To  the  nomads  of  the  Plains,  the  horse  is  now  so 
invaluable  that  it  is  difheult  to  realize  how  they  man- 
aged to  live  before  they  got  possession  of  him.  The 
horses  introdueed  by  the  Sjjaniards  nuist  have  been 
inferior  in  size,  or  the  race  has  givatly  degenerated. 
Compared  to  the  ordinaiy  American  horses  the  In- 
dian i)onies  are  very  small.  Before  the  Cherokees 
were  removed  from  North  Cai'olina,  they  had  a  race 
of  jjonies  very  diminutive,  but  so  strong  and  so  ex- 
tremely docile,  'hat  extravagant  sums  were  i)aid  for 
them  by  whites,  for  the  use  of  invalids  and  children. 
The  mustang,  or  wild  horse,  from  which  the  Indian 
pony  comes,  is  an  exceedingly  vicious  brute,  and  his 
descendants  do  not  nuich  improve  in  temper.  It 
would  be  curious  to  inquire  into  the  origin  of  the 
much  smaller  and  more  docile  pony  of  the  Cherokees. 

To  the  Plains  Indian  the  pouy  is  an  inseparable 
companion  and  an  indispensable  servitor.  If  an  In- 
dian had  no  pony,  and  could  get  none  cheaper,  he 
woukl  readily  give  his  favorite  wife  for  one.  Indeed, 
cheap  as  ponies  are  on  the  Plains,  the  ordinary  price 
for  a  maiden  is  only  from  one  to  four;  and  though  a 
rich  man  may  be  assessed  five  or  six  ponies  for  taking 
a  poor  man's  wife,  this  comes  from  a  spirit  of  fairness 
and  equity,  and  is  without  necessary  relation  to  the 
market  value  of  either  women  or  ponies.  The  j^ony 
is  a  necessity,  the  wife  a  luxury. 

Averaging  scarcely  fourteen  hands  in  height,  he  is 


't^  li'fjji^ 


'  .'  ss.tni.aALB'fc    A^         -fciiE*-    >^        i.  ^     ■^^!»-l' :>^i^t    iv  1*1.4=.'  J.   ^(.'■'*»*--*&i«  V'/'isV-^S.'   *„    ^       ^ -f^    t   !**   -^f'i^^^Sf^^ 


mmm 


A  WONDERFUL   PONY. 


587 


in 

1 1)0 

it 

H.S- 

Itic 


rather  slight  in  l)niltl,  thougli  always  havinj?  power- 
ful fbrequai'ters,  good  legs,  shoi-t  strong  hack,  and 
full  barrel.  He  has  not  the  slightest  ai)i)earanee  of 
"blood,"  though  his  sharp  nervous  cars  and  bright 
vicious  eyes  indicate  unusual  intelligence  and  tem- 
per, but  the  amount  of  work  he  can  do,  and  the  dis- 
tance he  can  make  in  a  specified  (long)  time,  put 
him  laii'iy  on  a  level  with  the  Arabian  or  any  other 
of  animal  creation. 

I  once  tried  to  buy  a  pony  that  took  my  fancy,  and 
offei'cd  the  owner  (an  American)  what  I  considered 
a  good  price,  forty  dollars.  He  looked  at  me  a  mo- 
ment in  surprise,  and  said  his  lowest  price  was  six 
hundred  dollars.  I  thought  the  man  a  braggadocio 
and  said  nothing  more.  I  subsequently  learned  that 
the  man  was  a  i)rofessional  express-rider,  and  for  the 
six  months  previous  had  been  employed  by  the  gov- 
ernment and  individuals  of  Chihuahua  to  carry  mail 
once  a  week  between  Chihuahua  and  El  Paso,  nearly 
three  hundred  miles,  the  I'oad  being  closed  to  ordi- 
nary travel  by  the  Apaches.  Riding  that  one  pony, 
he  had  made  the  distance  in  three  consecutive  nights, 
hiding  by  day,  and  next  week  made  the  distance  back 
in  the.  same  time,  receiving  one  hundred  dollars  for 
each  trip.  Six  months  of  this  work  had  not  dimin- 
ished the  fire  or  flesh  of  that  wonderful  pony. 

Though  of  indispensa])lc  value  to  the  Indian,  the 
pony  receives  not  a  particle  of  care  or  attention.  He 
is  never  stabled,  washed,  rubbed,  curried,  blanketed, 
shod,  fed  nor  doctored.  When  not  under  tiio  saddle 
his  life  is  spent  in  the  herd.  When,  in  the  home 
camp,  he  brings  his  mastei*  from  a  hard  day's  work, 
the  attentive  wife  slips  off  saddle  and  bridle,  and  lets 
him  go  to  the  herd,  or  feed  at  pleasure.    When  in  a 


<^ 


^■siasiiiS**--**-**^'* 


■':.'> 


"<iii 


'Wf- 


588 


WINTER   AND    SUIVIMER. 


.?     "J 


temporary  camp,  he  is  ijicketetl  and  must  make  the 
best  meal  he  can  by  cropping  the  grass  within  the 
limits  of  his  tether. 

On  a  march,  the  conclitio»i  of  his  pony's  back  does 
not  seem  to  trouble  the  Indian  at  all.  The  ill-fitting 
Indian  saddle  almost  always  tears  the  horse's  back, 
and  the  rider  accepts  it  as  a  dispensation  of  Providence, 
tbe  act  of  the  Bad  God,  for  Avhich  he  is  not  in  any 
way  responsible.  In  summer  he  may  take  the  trouble 
to  tie  a  cloth  over  the  sores  to  keep  the  flies  out,  or 
when  a  foot  becomes  very  tender  from  bad  ground 
or  long  travel,  he  may  tie  it  up  in  a  piece  of  buffalo 
robe ;  but  this  is  the  extent  of  consideration  the  pony 
ever  receives  from  his  master. 

In  the  winter  he  is  a  most  miserable  object,  an 
animated  skeleton.  Exposed  to  the  terrible  cold  and 
piercing  winds  of  the  Plains,  his  scanty  and  innu- 
tritions food  buried  beneath  the  snow,  he  would 
undoubtedly  starve,  but  that  the  squaws  cut  down 
acres  upon  acres  of  young  cottonwood  for  him  to 
browse  upon.  At  this  season,  with  coat  long,  shal)by 
and  rough,  matted  with  dii't  and  burr..,  hi])s  extended 
in  the  aii*,  belly  jnifted  out  with  sticks  and  bai'k 
swallowed  in  the  vain  attempt  to  ajjpease  the  hunger 
that  consumes  him,  forlorn,  downcast  and  miserable, 
he  looks  an  uncouth. monster  rather  than  a  horse. 

But  when  spring  has  mellowed  the  earth  and  drawn 
from  her  pregnant  bosom  the  tender  grass,  he  sheds 
the  rough  coat,  scours  the  protubei'ant  belly,  and  Avith 
rounded,  su])i)le  form,  liead  erect,  ears  and  eyes  full 
of  bright  intelligence,  he  is  again  ready  to  bear  his 
master  in  fight  and  foray,  to  be  trusted  even  to  death. 

The  highest  and  best  quality  of  the  pony  is  his 
endurance.     Ko  animal  could  serve  the  careless  and 


THE   CIIEYEXNE   PICNIC. 


589 


brutal  Indian  as  he  does.  Even  though  starthig  on  a 
journey  of  hundreds  of  miles,  the  Indian  never  spares 
his  pony,  but  aU  along  the  Hue  of  march  is  dashing  at 
full  speed,  now  here,  now  tliere,  at  one  time  chasing  a 
herd  of  antelope,  at  another  scurrying  away  to  the 
top  of  a  ridge  miles  away,  in  mere  curiosity  to  see 
what  is  beyond. 

"When  the  Northern  Chcyennes  broke  away  from 
the  Agency,  and  made  their  desperate  effort  to  get 
back  to  their  loved  northern  homes,  each  warrior 
started  with  from  two  to  ten  ponies  for  his  own  use, 
and  an  ample  number  foi-  the  women,  children  and 
packs. 

Courageous  and  confident,  easily  beating  off  the 
attacks  of  the  few  cavalry  companies  that  were  avail- 
able for  its  pursuit,  this  gallant  band  of  but  one 
hundi'cd  and  twenty-five  fighting  men,  encumbered 
by  more  than  four  times  their  number  of  women  and 
children,  moved  through  the  Indian  Tei'ritory  and 
Southern  Kansas  as  nonchalantly  as  though  a  vic- 
torious and  overwhelming  army.  Moving  by  easy 
stages,  their  march  was  only  a  picnic  from  one 
luxui'iant  grass-])lat  to  another;  the  pleasure  of  the 
jaunt  just  agreeably  varied  by  slight  encounters  with 
trooi)s,  and  mimic  buflalo-hunts  among  the  herds  of 
fat  cattle. 

On  Poison  Creek  in  Southern  Kansas  they  encoun- 
tered hci'ds  of  real  buflalo,  a  temptation  so  strong  as 
to  i)rove  irresistible,  and  here  the  march  was  sus- 
pended to  enable  them  to  kill  and  "jerk  "  sufficient 
meat  to  carry  them  to  the  Missouri  River. 

These  i)leasurable  connnissariat  duties  were  rather 
suddenly  bi'ought  to  an  end  by  the  near  approach  of  a 
larger  Ibi'ce  of  troops  than  they  had  hitherto  cncoun- 


^'■:o.^l&<.,.. 


..:■»  ,.  ;  ~.  .,v^<?-,j».i-..ii'.  iVW 


,ffif  iiMi.i  iiiiiiN 


y. 


590 


THE   DEATH-TRAP. 


tercel.  Constant  victory  had  given  them  such  con- 
fidence in  their  own  powers  and  "  medicine,"  that, 
though  knowing  that  the  troops  outjiumhcrcd  them 
more  than  two  to  one,  they  determined  to  set  a  trap, 
and  give  their  pursuers  such  a  lesson  as  would 
eflfectually  send  them  to  the  rear  and  insure  an 
unmolested  journey  to  their  destination. 

This  portion  of  the  Plains  is  a  formation  of  carbon- 
iferous sand-stone  covered  by  a  thin  la}^^-  of  aUuvial. 
The'  running  streams  meander  through  valleys  cut 
entirely  through  the  stone.  The  lateral  slopes  or  de- 
pressions gradually  deepen  until  the  stone  foundation 
is  reached,  and  following  this  with  more  or  less  v;ear 
for  some  little  distance,  plunge  precipitately  into 
canons  whose  bottoms  are  alluvial  deposits,  but  whose 
sides  are  perpendicular  walls  of  rock,  from  the  tops 
of  which  the  plainj-ises  smoothly,  gradually,  and  with- 
out the  slightest  cover  for  an  approaching  enemy. 
These  are,  by  plainsmen,  called  "  box  canons,'"  and 
even  though  but  ten  to  twenty  feet  in  depth,  they 
afford  positions  and  opportunities  for  defence  almost 
equal  to  those  of  the  best  artificial  defensive  works. 
A  "box  canon"  of  unusually  excellent  dci'ensive 
facilities  was  selected  by  the  astute  Cheyennes.  It 
was  exceptionally  rich  in  luxurious  grasses  suitable 
for  the  stock;  it  contained  several  springs  of  water; 
its  windings  formed  natural  bastions;  and  toward  its 
upi)er  end  it  was  so  deep  and  narrow  as  to  alford 
perfect  protection  to  the  women  and  children.  The 
edges  and  weak  places  were  strengthened  by  low 
walls  of  loose  stones,  behind  which,  entirely  covered 
and  hidden,  the  little  band  crouched  for  its  deadly 
spring. 

The    Indians    evidently    anticipated    that    in    the 


y.jjj'rj.JJ:,..^^-  '-^'\.^ti  ■;2'5T..i\..,,,-:-„  W^^.. 


■  ■S.4-r:.,.,^\-&^M[L^^ 


DEATH   OF   COLONEL   LEWIS. 


591 


pill 

del 
111 


eagerness  of  ijursuit  the  troops  would  rush  blindly 
into  this  jjitfall.  But  Col.  Lewis  knew  his  enemy. 
Vigorous  as  was  his  pursuit  his  advance  was  always 
covered  by  scouts. 

The  principal  valley  from  which  the  Indians  had 
entered  the  "  box  canon,"  had  for  a  day  or  two  been 
the  grazing-ground  for  their  stock,  and  was  every- 
where marked  with  numerous  tracks.  The  scouts 
would  probably  have  passed  v/ithout  notice  the  en- 
trance to  the  "  box  canon,"  and  thus  led  Lewis,  in 
epitc  of  his  caution,  into  an  ambuscade  from  Avhicli 
he  must  have  suffered  severely,  but  for  the  constitu- 
tional impatience  and  excitability  of  the  Indians. 
Thongh  they  kncAV  that  the  troops  for  whom  the  trap 
was  laid  were  but  a  short  distance  off,  they  were 
utterly  unable  to  refrain  from  firing  at  the  few 
advanced  scouts.  These  shots,  by  disclosing  their 
presence  and  position,  deprived  the  trap  of  its  only 
really  dangerous  feaUire. 

The  scouts  promptly  returned  to  the  command  and 
informed  '^'ol.  Lewis  of  the  situation. 

Two  coiipanies  of  cavalry  were  dismounted,  and 
advanced  (  eployed  as  skirmishers,  occupying  one 
whole  side  of  the  "box  canon."  A  company  of 
infantry  occupied  the  other  side.  The  hues  closed 
in  and  the  battle  soon  raged  entirely  to  the  dis- 
advantage of  the  Indians.  After  scarcely  an  hour  rf 
this  sharp  work,  the  savages,  finding  themselves 
completely  environed,  were  so  convinced  of  their  own 
defeat  as  to  have  made  a  flag  of  truce  to  open  com- 
munications, when  Col.  Lewis,  incautiously  exposing 
himself,  was  struck  down  by  a  rifle-bullet  and  died  in 
a  few  moments. 

This  so  demoralized  the  troops  that  they  fell  back, 


!l 


y>'j4..i*'jiWitiHi«.  ,i*»  I ' 


iiPiiiiPiPiPliiiiiil 

*      ■■    '    ■       ■    •■'      -'  -     -:    ■■'■■■■■<'.    Y-""-'"  ,^"  ■■    ■■    ■•■C-  '  ■'■..-«« 


592 


FLIGHT   OF   THE   INDIANS. 


and  night  coming  on,  they  retired  from  the  field,  and 
went  into  camp.  The  Indians  were  not  slow  to  take 
advantage  of  this  opportunity,  and  under  the  friendly 
cover  of  darkness,  they  escaped  from  the  canon  and 
continued  their  flight  towards  the  north.  Before  the 
battle  had  fairly  joined,  Lewis  had  sent  a  few  of  the 
very  best  marksmen  among  the  scouts,  to  lie,  perdu, 
among  the  rocks  about  the  mouth  of  the  canon,  with 
orders  to  kill  as  many  as  possible  of  the  Indian  i)onies. 
This  order  had  been  so  admirably  executed^  that,  in 
spite  of  the  T^tmost  care  on  the  part  of  the  Indians, 
not  less  than  seventy  of  their  ponies  had  been  de- 
stroyed. What  remained  were  sufficient  for  a  few 
days'  march,  but  not  for  such  a  race  as  they  now 
realized  they  had  to  run;  so,  deviating  from  their 
most  direct  route,  the  Indians  turned  to  the  eastward 
and  made  a  raid  into  the  settlements  to  procure  a 
remount. 

The  horrors  of  that  raid  are  a  part  of  the  history  of 
Kansas,  but  in  spite  of  the  great  number  of  horses 
taken,  the  Indians  were  so  closely  pressed  by  Major 
Mauck  and  his  cavalry,  that,  to  this  day,  they  cannot 
be  made  to  believe  that  Mauck  made  his  wonderful 
marches  with  one  and  the  same  set  of  animals. 

Treated  properly,  the  pony  will  wear  out  two 
American  horses;  but  in  the  hands  of  the  Indian  he  is 
so  abused  and  neglected  that  an  energetic  cavalry- 
officer  will  wear  him  out. 

After  endurance,  the  best  quality  of  the  pony  is 
sureness  of  foot.  He  will  climb  a  steep  rocky  hill 
with  the  activity  and  assurance  of  the  mule;  he  will 
jjlunge  down  an  almost  precii^itous  declivity  with 
the  case  and  indifference  of  the  buffalo.  In  swamps 
and  quicksands  he  is  only  excelled  by  the  elk,  and  ho 


i.  *5tw  X'V      'i:t>'., 


jiVltj^i.' 


v*UB.»TWi»i»'!V^l»"-WW 


id 

h 

M 

he 
Ihe 
hi, 
Ith 

;s. 
in 

IS, 


BUYING  rONIES. 


will  go  at  speed  through  sand-hills,  or  gronnd  nnder- 
mined  by  gophers,  where  an  American  horse  would 
labor  to  get  along  faster  than  a  walk,  and  fiill  in  the 
first  fifty  yards  of  a  gallop. 

The  amount  of  work  got  ont  of  him  by  an  Indian 
is  simply  astonishing.  No  mercy  is  shown;  indeed, 
he  never  seems  to  realize  that  his  pony  is  tired.  Tell 
an  Indian  to  find  ont  sometliing,  and  he  will  pi-obably 
go  and  retnrn  at  speed,  though  the  distance  be  twenty 
miles.  If  the  pony  flags,  he  gets  more  whipping;  if 
hfe  gives  ont,  another  is  saddled  to  go  through  the 
same  experience. 

The  variation  of  quality  and  power  of  the  Indian 
pony  is  very  little  as  compared  with  that  of  onr 
horses,  so  little  indeed  that  a  "pony"  is  the  standard 
of  values.  One  may  be  faster  or  stronger  than 
another,  but  these  advantages  are  likely  to  be  coun- 
terbalanced by  some  special  viciousness,  or  other 
defect.  Age  seems  not  to  be  considered,  the  animal 
being  a  "  pony "  so  long  as  he  has  sufficient  vital 
energy  to  get  fat  in  the  spring.  I  have  nevei'  seen 
an  Indian  examine  a  horse's  mouth,  and  am  satisfied 
that,  knowing  nothing  of  judging  age  bj'  the  marks 
on  the  teeth,  they  yield  it  as  a  point  of  no  conse- 
quence. 

The  loss  of  an  eye  or  injury  to  a  foot  or  leg  is  so 
sei'ious  a  defect  as  to  render  him  no  longer  a  stand- 
ard pony.  When  an  Indian  buys  a  number  of  ponies 
from  another,  they  are  not  selected,  but  "cut  off" 
from  the  herd,  as  one  buys  a  lot  of  sheep.  Those  cut 
ofi"  are  then  examined,  singly,  and  if  full-grown  and 
not  defective,  are  accepted. 

In  all  large  herds  there  are  a  few  special  fiivorites, 
riding,  war,  or  tiick  ponies,  which  are  excepted  in  all 


WiWHiKii 


•im 


■■>T^-fa 


^i^p^^^:- 


■'Twi      ^:: 


594 


WORK   OF   rOXIES. 


general  bargains.  Even  when  a  man  has  stolen  an- 
other's wife,  these  are  not  taken  to  pay  for  her,  unless 
there  are  not  enough  of  others. 

No  care  whatever  is  taken  in  breeding,  and  it  is 
difficult  to  make  the  Indian  comprehend  that  the 
stock  might  be  improved. 

The  wealth  of  an  Indian  is  expressed  by  the  num- 
ber of  ponies  he  owns.  We  say  a  man  is  worth  so 
many  dollars;  the  Indians  say  he  is  worth  so  many 
ponies. 

In  fixing  the  status  of  the  individual,  wealth  has 
even  more  weight  among  Indians  than  among  whites. 
To  be  influential  and  jDowerful,  a  man  must  have 
ample  means  and  be  liberal  with  it.  AVhen  the  tribes 
were  rich,  almost  every  middle-aged  man  owned  his 
herd,  and  even  now  some  of  the  more  powci'ful  chiefs 
own  several  hundred  ponies.  Each  pony  of  a  lai-ge 
herd  has  its  work  assigned  it.  The  poorest  or  least 
valuable  are  used  as  pack-animals,  scarcely  ever 
being  mounted  except  by  the  boys,  in  mischief. 
Steady,  reliable  old  fellows  are  selected  to  drag  the 
lodge-poles,  on  which  are  fastened  the  wicker-work 
cages  in  which  are  transported  the  old  and  infirm, 
and  the  children  of  from  one  to  four  years  of  age. 
Each  squaw  has  her  own  pony,  and  also  each  child, 
old  enough  to  ride  one.  Then  come  the  hacks,  used 
for  gadding  about,  for  visiting  neighboring  villages, 
and  for  hunting  deer.  Next  in  importance  in  the  old 
time,  were  the  trained  "buffalo  ponies,"  for  which 
there  is  now  no  use.  Next  in  value  are  the  race 
horses,  those  trained  to  tricks  being  second  only  to 
the  Indian's  only  real  love,  his  war  pony.  This  last  is 
the  only  animal  on  which  he  ever  bestows  the  slightest 
care.     No  one  but  the  owner  is  ever  permitted  to 


'W'^lW^^'W'^IPf'TS?'^^ 


•*^/^ 


THE   WAK  PONT. 


le 

50 


595 


ride  him,  and  the  owner  himself  would  think  it  dese- 
cration to  mount  him  for  an  ordinary  ride.  On  war 
parties  he  is  carefully  "  saved-up,"  the  owner  riding 
another  animal  and  leadino^  him  by  a  lariat.  He  gets 
the  best  grass;  ir^  his  tail  is  tied  tiie  bag  of  good 
medicine;  for  him  are  reserved  all  the  dangers  and 
excitement  of  battle ;  to  his  speed  and  intelligence  the 

Indian  entrusts  his  honor  and  his  life. 

37 


J! 


CITAPTEU  XLYH. 

ON  THE  FRONTIER  —  TRAPPERS  AND   SQUAW  MEN  — 
TRADING    POSTS  AND   INDIAN  AGENTS. 


On  the  Frontier  —  The  Border  Line  —  The  Early  Trappers  —  Playing 
the  Wild  Rover  —  Romantic  Adventures  —  Adoption  by  tlio  Tribe  — 
The  Old  Trading  Posts  — A  Winter's  Work  for  AVhiskey  — The 
Indian  Trader  —  Perambulatinjj  Groofseries  —  Indian  Wives  and 
Half-breed  Children  —  Growing  Rich  —  Influence  with  Wasliington 
Magnates  —  The  Squaw  Men  —  Adventurers  and  Outcasts  —  The  Asy- 
lum of  Tiiieves  and  Murderers  —  Pliant  Tools  of  Corrupt  Agents 

—  Treachery  and  Debauchery  —  Leading  a  Band  of  Sioux  Horse- 
thieves —  Inciting  the  Indians  to  Deeds  of  Atrocity  —  A  Thousand 
of  such  "  Missionaries  "  —  Indian  Marriages  —  Social  Degradation  — 
The  Black  Hills  War  —  A  Costly  Sacrifice  —  Disiionest  Interpreters 

—  How  the  Indians  are  Misled  —  Escape  from  a  Disastrous  Contest. 


S 


HAT  is  "  The  Frontier  "  ?   It  is  safe 


\ 


I  j  to  say  that  the  two  words  do  not 
^-  impress  the  same  idea  on  any  two 
j^'>  people.  Common  as  is  their  use, 
they  convey  to  all,  fi'om  President 
H"^  to  lowest  rustic,  only  a  hazy  impres- 
'^  sion  of  something  "out  west;  "  an 
>■  "undefined  boundary  between  civiliza- 
tion and  barbarism. 
This  being  true,  it  is  not  at  all  remarkable  that  the 
term  "  frontiersman  "  should  have  an  equally  loose 
and  indefinite  meaning;  the  name  being  applied  to 
men  of  the  most  varied  habits  and  characteristics,  liv- 
ing lives  as  dissimilar  the  one  to  the  other,  as  if  they 
occupied  different  quarters  of  the  globe. 

596 


'l«^?iJ-TO^if'?i"  T 


'^iwwrmf 


TRAPPERS. 


597 


Some  "frontiersmen  "  live  wholly  within  savage  ter- 
ritory, among  savages,  from  whom  they  differ  only  by 
a  shade;  others  live  entirely  within  civilized  territory, 
and  have  no  thought  in  common  with  savage  life;  but 
the  large  mass  live  now  on  one  side,  now  on  the  other, 
as  may  be  consistent  with  their  individual  well-being 
and  safety  for  the  time. 

The  ordinary  citizen,  in  the  rut  of  the  daily  routine 
of  his  civilized  life,  can  scarcely  be  made  to  realize, 
that  thousands  of  his  fellow-citizens,  sometimes  intel- 
ligent, and  occasionally  accomplished  men,  gladly  sx- 
change  all  the  comforts  and  advantages  of  civiliza- 
tion, for  the  privation,  hardship,  danger  and  freedom 
of  barbaric  life. 

With  the  single  exception  of  the  far-away  Moqui 
Pueblos,  I  doubt  if  there  be  a  tribe  of  Indians  in  the 
Territory  of  the  United  States,  whose  characters, 
habits,  and  ideas  have  not  derived  some  tinge  or 
shading  from  contact  with  whites. 

Trappers  wei'e  the  pioneer  frontiersmen. 

The  earlier  trappers  would  seem  to  have  been  actu- 
ated by  the  disposition  to  rove,  quite  as  much  as  by 
anxiety  to  make  money,  for  not  a  lew  of  them  passed 
carelessly  by  streams  richly  stocked  with  beaver  and 
otter,  and  in  fair  proximity  to  the  trading-posti: ;  to 
go  far  beyond,  to  streams  less  rich,  or  from  whence, 
if  animals  were  plenty,  the  pelts  could  not  be  got  to 
market. 

The  adventures  of  these  men  have  furnished  mate- 
rial for  many  thrilling  stories,  but  though  capable  of 
bein<r  jrlossed  with  romance  (as  even  the  Indian  him- 
self,  in  the  hands  of  a  Cooper),  these  adventures  are 
only  those  every  day  incident  to  savage  life.  The 
tribes  were  not  as  a  rule  specially  hostile  to  whites, 


598 


A  DEBT. 


and  access  to  the  chief  was  not  difficult.  A  few  pres- 
ents, and  the  purchase  of  one  or  more  squaws  consti- 
tuted the  adventurer  a  member  of  the  tribe,  identified 
with  its  interests,  taking  part  in  its  successes,  and 
suffering  from  its  disasters. 

But  the  labors  of  the  individual  trapper  did  not 
always  satisfy  his  ambition  or  his  greed.  Indian  cus- 
fom  saddled  upon  him  the  support  of  a  greater  or 
less  number  of  the  relations  oi  his  wives.  He  util- 
ized this  material  and  put  them  to  work,  setting  and 
watching  traps,  killing  game,  etc.,  etc.  These  In- 
dians, heretofore  entirely  ignorant  of  traps  and  trap- 
ping, became  in  time  excellent  trappers.  The  Hud- 
son Bay  Company  recognized  this,  and,  realizing 
the  advantage  of  trading  directly  with  the  compara- 
tively ignorant  Indians,  took  away  from  the  trappers 
tliis  source  of  profit,  by  taking  all  the  trapping  In- 
dians into  their  direct  employ.  This  was  and  is  done 
by  furnishing,  in  the  fall,  to  each  of  these  Indians  an 
outfit,  provisions,  traps,  etc.,  without  requiring  imme- 
diate payment.  This  is  called  a  "debt."  In  the 
spring  the  Indian  comes  in,  brings  his  pelts,  and  pays 
olF  his  debt.  The  posts  are  so  isolated  that  the  In- 
dian is  aln  '^st  always  forced  to  go  to  the  same  one  to 
outfit,  so  that  the  risk  is  little. 

Great  as  were  the  profits,  it  was  soon  discovered 
that  these  could  be  greatly  enhanced.  Heretofore 
entirely  ignorant  of  any  intoxicating  fluid,  the  Indian 
developed  a  passion  for  fire-water  so  intense  as  to  be 
little  short  of  an  insanity.  After  paying  his  "debt," 
he  would  give  all  the  remaining  pelts  for  the  means 
for  one  good  "drunk"  (half  a  pint  of  whiskey),  and 
when  he  got  sober  would  contract  another  "debt"  for 
next  year's  outfit. 


feA 


f^'jw^ifw^iw^'.^-^f.W  "«pm«w.H','*!«mr 


THE   INDIAN  TRADER. 


599 


The  enormous  profits  of  this  traffic  soon  attracted 
another  class  of  frontiersmen.  These  were  the  In- 
dian traders.  Nowliere  could  be  found  a  more  utterly 
debased  and  worthless  set  of  men.  Too  lazy  to  work, 
even  to  trap  (the  laziest  of  all  work),  they  made  thi'ir 
living  by  pandering  to  the  worst  passions  of  the  In- 
dian. With  their  only  stock  in  trade,  a  keg  or  two 
of  the  cheapest  and  poorest  whiskey  loaded  on  a  light 
cart,  or  slung  across  a  pack-horse,  a  couple  of  these 
men  would  in  the  early  spring  penetrate  to  the 
streams  occupied  by  the  trappers,  and  return  in  a  few 
weeks  with  skins  worth  five  hundred,  or  a  thousand 
times  their  cost  to  them.  There  was  no  danger,  for 
though  the  trappers  might  have  killed  them  and 
taken  the  whiskey,  such  action  would  have  deterred 
others  from  coming  next  spring.* 

This  trade  was  a  sore  annoyance  to  the  Company, 
as  the  trapper  oftentimes  drank  up  all  his  crop  of 
pelts,  and  could  not  pay  his  debt.  Strenuous  efforts 
were  made  to  break  it  up,  but  with  so  little  result  that 
the  trader  is  now,  as  he  has  been  for  two  hundred  years, 
a  prominent  man ;  an  institution  of  the  frontier. 

He  fits  out  the  great  caravans,  the  perambulating 
groggeries,  which  keep  the  Indian  in  the  depths  of 
poverty  and  debasement;  he  furnishes  most  of  the 
fine  breech-loading  fire-arms  and  metallic  cartridges, 
which  enable  the  Indians  so  stoutly  to  resist  the 
aggressions  of  the  whites;  he  supplies  the  Indians 
with  all  those  contraband  articles  of  which  the  Gov- 
ernment, with  its  usual  wisdom,  prohibits  the  sale  by 

*  The  cost  of  even  a  single  "  drnnk  "  was  so  gi-oat,  that  these  occasional 
sprees  did  not  result  in  deatii,  or  even  permanent  physical  injiuy  to  the 
Indian,  and  the  generally  received  impression  that  tlie  number  of  In- 
dians has  been  greatly  decreased  by  the  use  of  fire-water  is  erroneous. 


1 


(iOO 


PATRIAUCIIS. 


any  person  in  whose  hands  the  trade  might  he  regu- 
lated and  controlled.  lie  is  not  un frequently  the 
henchman  and  partner  of  the  Indian  Agent,  and 
nnder  cover  of  his  name  and  ill-fame,  this  excellent 
man  perpetrates  the  most  atrocious  frauds  upon  the 
unfortunate  beings  consigned  by  a  benignant  Gov- 
ernment to  his  care. 

These  men  frequently  become  very  wealthy,  build- 
ing great  outfitting  stores  and  dc'p5ts  in  favorable 
locations,  and  gain  great  influence,  not  only  with  the 
Indians,  but  sufficient  among  the  magnates  nt  AVash- 
ington  to  secure  the  passage  of  laws  for  the  benefit 
of  themselves  and  their  half-breed  children.  Their 
red  wives,  being  only  i)roperty,  are  no  impediment 
to  their  possession  of  white  wives  and  families  in  the 
States.  As  they  grow  old,  some  retire  from  business, 
return  to  their  families  in  the  States,  and  not  unfi'c- 
quently  take  a  prominent  i)osition  in  society  and 
public  affairs,  and  are  looked  up  to  as  authority  on 
all  Indian  questions.  Others  pass  the  winter  of  their 
days  in  their  western  homes,  surrounded  in  patri- 
archal manner  by  a  crowd  of  admiring  wives,  children 
and  dependents. 

Next  in  order  of  frontiersmen  comes  the  "  squaw 


man. 


5) 


The  custom  of  adoption  by  marriage  has  resulted 
to  the  Indian  in  unmixed  evil.  Living  with  every 
Indian  tribe  are  numbers  of  men,  Americans,  French- 
men, Germans,  Mexicans,  Negroes,  who,  having  pur- 
chased wives,  are  regarded  as  belonging  to  the  tribe. 
Some  of  these  men  are  the  veriest  outcasts,  refugees 
who  dare  not  set  foot  in  any  State.  Others  are  ad- 
venturers without  capital,  who  hope  to  make  a  petty 
living  by  speculating   on   the   improvidence   of  the 


■  'W,<p!,'^i^^i^<"*S«W,i,v"V!»i«/«p'fl>^ 


SyUAW    MEN. 


GUI 


[10 

Jul 

lit 
no 


Jl- 

r 

lio 


it 


Indian.  Others  again  arc  cattle  men,  who  by  talcing 
Indian  wives,  gain  the  right  to  hold  their  cattle 
on  Indian  reservations.  Others  by  like  right  open 
farms,  and  stock  ranches. 

In  nearly  every  treaty  it  has  made  with  Indians, 
the  Government  has  bound  itself  to  prevent  the 
encroachments  of  white  men.  In  not  one  single 
instance  has  any  effort  been  made  to  carry  out  this 
provision  of  the  treaties.  AVhite  men  go  through 
and  over  the  Indian  Territory,  or  remain  in  it,  just 
as  it  pleases  them.  For  a  certain  class  of  whites,  an 
Indian  reservation  is  a  veritable  house  of  refuge,  for 
here  are  no  laws,  no  writs,  no  sheriffs,  no  jails,  no 
penitentiaries,  no  hangman.  Here  is  the  secure  home 
of  the  forger,  the  horse-thief,  the  murderer;  here 

"  lie  shall  take  who  has  the  power, 
And  he  shall  keep  who  can." 

Before  the  grand  influx  of  whites  into  Indian  coun- 
try, and  while  the  tribes  were  yet  intact,  uncontrolled, 
preserving  all  their  ancient  customs,  and  enacting  all 
their  martial  ceremonies,  the  epithet  "  squaw  man  " 
was  applied  to  those  few  individuals  who  flinched  or 
failed  in  the  tortures  of  the  initiatory  ordeal  of  war- 
rior.    It  was  expressive  of  the  utmost  contempt. 

Within  the  last  few  years,  and  at  the  present  time, 
the  name  is  given  to  those  persons  other  than  In- 
dians, who  by  purchase  of  wives  have  been  adopted 
or  tolerated  in  the  tribe.  It  is  yet  used  as  an  expres- 
sion of  contempt,  applicable  to  the  most  shiftless  of 
this  class ;  for  though  trappers  and  traders  habitually 
take  squaws  to  wife,  this  name  is  not  usually  applied 
to  them.  They  have  a  visible,  or  at  least  ostensible 
means  of  support,  and  being  regarded  as  somewhat 
permanent  members  of  the  tribe,  are  not  on  the  same 


Ml 


! 


-u 


lilppllplplplqlpiiplipp^^ 


:^^' 


602 


A   SPECIMEijf  WHITE. 


'4' 


f- 


'U 


plfi'ie  with  the  others,  even  in  the  estimation  of  the 
Indian. 

"  Squaw  men  "  represent  every  class  of  men,  from 
the  educated  gentleman,  wearied  of  the  hollow  con- 
ventionalities of  civilized  life,  to  the  bloodthirsty  ruf- 
fian, more  debased  and  degraded  than  the  Indian 
himself. 

The  meanest  and  most  contemptible  of  these 
*^  squaw  men  "  are  to  be  found  around  the  agencies, 
hangeri:  on  and  dependents;  sending  their  squaws 
to  draw  lations  for  the  family,  and  making  a  liveli- 
hood by  buying  and  selling  their  rations,  from  and 
to  the  Indians;  by  clandestinely  dealing  in  arms  and 
liquors,  a",d  in  any  other  underhand  way  that  requires 
no  manual  labor,  their  abhorrence.  These  are  the 
pliant  tools  of  corrupt  agents,  making  affidavits  to 
i30ver  any  deficiency,  and  swearing  tc  any  story  made 
up  for  them  beforehand. 

At  his  own  best  games,  in  lying,  stealing,  drinking, 
treachery,  and  debauchery,  the  "  squaw  man  "  of  this 
class  is  so  far  superior  to  the  Indian  as  to  gain  his 
unqualified  admiration,  and  he  becomes  a  power 
among  them  by  the  display  of  qualit'es  similar,  but 
superior,  to  those  held  in  highest  estimation  by  them. 

These  men  come  most  closely  and  directly  in  con- 
tact with  the  Indian,  and  it  is  from  them  that  he  getn 
his  ideas  of  the  character,  capacity,  morality,  and  re- 
ligion of  white  men.  Being  able  to  go  among  the 
white  settlements  at  '.vill,  they  are  often  accused  of 
acting  as  spies  for  the  Indians,  informing  them  where 
a  valuable  lot  of  horses  or  mules  may  be  had  for  the 
taking.  A  specially  fine  lot  of  horses  (said  to  belong 
to  a  promiiient  Pennsylvania  politician)  were  being 
.wintered  on   the   west   of  the   Laramie   plains.     A 


*i»iS!;'«ri!y»Tft\y'i'^JWw«^ 


WRONGS   OF  THE   SYSTEM. 


603 


small  party  of  Sioux  Indians,  starting  from  their 
camp  on  Powder  River,  went  direct  to  the  herd, 
and  carried  off  every  one.  It  was  afterward  stated 
and  believed,  that  a  white  "  squaw  man,"  living  with 
the  Sioux,  found  out  the  Iccation  of  this  herd  while 
on  a  visit  to  the  settlements.  On  his  return  to  the 
tribe,  he  made  up  a  party,  and  guided  it  to  the  spot. 

These  "  squaw  men  "  are  also  accused  of  wreaking 
personal  vengeance  by  inciting  Indians  to  some  act 
of  atrocity  on  their  enemy.  There  is  scarcely  a  crime 
of  which  they  are  not  accused,  and  it  is  doubtful  if 
there  be  a  crime  of  which  some  of  them  are  not 
capable. 

There  are  in  the  United  States  about  one  hundred 
Indian  reservations  and  agencies,  at  each  of  which 
there  is  an  average  of  not  less  than  ten  of  this  class 
of  "  squaw  men."  The  effect  on  the  Indian  of  a 
thousand  such  "  missionaries  "  may  be  imagined. 

Marriage  among  Indians  was  already  a  sufficient- 
ly slight  bond.  These  men  f)urcliase  and  abandon 
women  at  pleasure,  debasing  and  prostituting  them, 
and  lowering  the  tone  of  the  tribes.  But  a  few  years 
ago  the  Cheyenne  women  were  models  of  chastity. 
Even  yet  they  arc,  in  this  respect,  the  highest  type  of 
Indian  women;  but  the  cupidity  of  their  fathers  and 
husbands,  and  the  money  and  license  of  the  "squaw 
men,"  \\\\\  eventually  place  them  socially  and  morally 
on  a  level  with  the  lowest.  Nor  does  the  injury  end 
here  Abandoning  their  women  at  pleasure,  these 
men  leave  them  and  their  children  a  tax  on  the  tribe 
or  band,  and  in  the  present  habitual  condition  ol 
semi-starvation,  to  which  all  are  reduced,  the  unfoi  - 
tunate  mother,  to  keep  body  and  soul  together,  is 
ofttimes  forced  to  sell  not  only  herself,  but  her  children. 


\ 


604 


RASCALLY   INTERPRETERS. 


'']!*'" 
^i 


The  "  squa^  men "  are  a  serious  injury  to  the 
United  States  Urovernment. 

The  Mexicans  have  a  proverb  that  "  a  woman  is  the 
best  dictionary.'-  The  "squaw  men"  prove  its  correct- 
ness by  soon  acquiring  enough  of  the  language  of  tlie 
tribe  in  which  they  are  domiciled  to  set  up  as  inter- 
pretcis,  and  most  of  the  intercourse  between  the  Gov- 
ernment and  the  Indians  is  filtered  through  these 
men. 

Confident  of  a  certain  power  with  and  over  Indians, 
almost  every  "  squaw  man  "  becomes  something  of  a 
politician.  He  invariably  has  some  "axe  to  grind" 
of  his  own,  and  his  interpretations  are  always  colored, 
or  at  least  shaded,  to  suit  his  own  ends. 

There  was  s(?arcely  an  Indian  of  the  Sioux  nation 
who  Avas  not  willing  in  1875  to  sell  the  Black  Hills  to 
the  United  States  at  a  fair  price.  But  the  rascally 
"  squaw  men  "  among  them,  believing  that  the  (Gov- 
ernment would  pay  any  price,  and  constantly  mindful 
of  theii*  own  interests,  so  worked  and  lobbied  among 
the  chiefs  and  warriors,  that  the  terms  demanded  were 
simi)ly  ridiculous.  In  this  case  they  injured  the  In- 
dians, plunged  the  Government  into  a  costly  war,  and 
overreached  themselves. 

A  serious  complication  arose  in  September,  1880, 
which  the  "ring"  men  charge  to  the  perversions  of 
the  interpreters,  though  these  latter  stoutly  maintain 
that  they  interpreted  correctly  what  was  told  them  by 
(he  Secretary. 

A  deputatl(j)i  of  chiefs  of  the  Cheyennes  and  Arra- 
piihoes  went  to  Washington  to  see  the  Secretary  of 
the  Interior,  and  get,  if  possible,  a  definite  idea  of  the 
boundarii «  of  their  reservation.  They  came  back 
ehite  and  joyous,  saying  that  the  Secretary  had  in- 


wmmmm 


BSBHBHWPWWSSrS 


BpijaW^-tflBI^W^^jiiWI^^jllV^ 


INTRUDING   WHITE   MEN. 


605 


formed  them  that  their  reservation  was  bounded  on 
the  east  by  the  Arkansas  River,  on  the  north  by  the 
state  line  of  Kansas,  and  on  the  west  and  south  by 
the  Cimarron  River,  and  they  were  advised  to  move 
into  it  immediatel3\ 

Now,  almost  every  foot  of  ground  within  the  limits 
specified  is  what  is  called  "  Cherokee  lands,"  and  is 
at  this  moment  occupied  by  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
cattle,  the  owners  of  Avhich  pay  to  the  Cherokees,  by 
and  with  the  knowledge  and  consent  of  the  United 
States  Govei'nment,  a  per  capita  tax  for  the  privilege 
of  grazing. 

Had  +he  Cheyennes  gone  into  that  country,  a  col- 
lision with  the  white  herders  of  those  cattle  would 
have  been  inevitable,  for  each  would  have  wanted 
the  grass  for  their  own  stock;  involving  a  costly 
war  and  the  probable  ultimate  destruction  of  the 
tribe. 

Major  Randall,  the  military  comi.iander  at  Fort 
Reno,  and  the  officer  most  directly  in  control  of  these 
Indians,  seeing  at  once  the  danger  of  the  situation, 
and  the  incongruity  of  the  alleged  statement  of  the 
Secretary  with  the  actual  facts,  explained  all  to  the 
Indians,  assuring  them  that  the  Secretary  would  not 
possibly  have  given  them  any  such  boundaries.  He 
advised  them  not  to  go  into  that  country.  His  wise 
counsel  prevailed,  and  what  might  have  been  a  matter 
of  most  serious  consequence  to  all  concerned,  was 
ha])pily  evaded. 

There  is  a  law  of  the  Statute  Book  prohibiting 
whites  from  intruding  on  Indian  reservations,  but, 
like  all  other  laws  relating  to  Indian  affairs,  (except 
those  which  divert  the  money  into  certain  channels,) 
it  is  a  dead  letter,  not  worth  the  paper  it  is  printed 


4! 


'■?' 
''i^ 


1 


5  : 


,  '..( ' 


606 


A  mrUE   OF  CONDUCT   NECESSARY. 


on.  The  Government  cannot  or  will  not  act  when 
the  Indian  only  is  aggrieved. 

There  being  no  hope  of  advancing  the  Indian  in 
morals  and  civilization  by  getting  rid  of  the  "  squaw 
men,"  the  only  remedy  left  is,  that  Congress  shall 
pass  laws  for  the  regulation  of  whites  in  Indian  Ter- 
ritories, milking  marriage  with  a  squaw  a  civil  con- 
tract, voidable  only  by  death,  or  by  divorce  for  cause, 
adultery  a  misdemeanor,  and  bigamy  a  felony;  and 
appoint  judges  or  oflScers  to  see  to  the  execution  of 
these  laws. 

As  I  have  before  said,  "  the  fir&t  step  in  Indian 
civilization  is  to  give  him  a  rule  and  guide  to  his  con- 
duct," and  this  can  only  be  done  by  judicious  laws 
properly  executed. 


■:« 


CHAPTER  XLYIII. 

FRONTIERSMEN  —  TEXAS  COW-BOYS  AND  BORDER 
DESPERADOES  —  A  STRANGE  AND  THRILLING 
STORY. 

Frontiersmen  —  Who  They  Are  —  The  Miners  and  Gold  Hunters  —  Un- 
savorj'  BuflUlo  Hunters  —  Texas  Cow-Boys  —  A  Life  of  Privation, 
Hardship  and  Danger  —  A  Plains  "  Nortlier  "  —  The  Most  Reckless 
of  all  Desperadoes  —  Utter  Disregard  of  Life  —  Spoiling  for  a  Fight 

—  The  Terror  of  the  Frontier  —  Cattle  Thieves — A  Strange  and 
Thrilling  Story  —  History  of  a  Bloodthirsty  Combat  —  A  K(>markalile 
Incident  of  Porder  Life  —  A  Noted  Dtspenido  —  His  Gorgeous  Ap- 
pearance —  Stealing  a  Herd  of  Cattle  —  Tracking  the  Thieves — Their 
Discovery  —  Watching  for  a  Favorable  Opport'mity  —  Killing  his 
Victims  One  by  One  —  A  Merciless  Foe  —  Death  of  ti^e  Sixtli  Ruffian 

—  Ho  Proves  to  be  the  Leader  of  the  Band  —  A  Question  of  Time. 

ESIDES   the    classes    of   frontiersmen 
heretofore  described,  and  which,  though 
claiming  to  be  American  citizens,  are 
Indians  by  adoption,  Indians  in  man- 
ners, customs,  habits,  interests,  every- 
thing  except   color;    there    are   other 
classes  which  though  frequently  living 
in  or  near  Indian  territory,  have  no  affili- 
ation  with,  and   are   usually  extremely 
hostile  to,  the  savage  denizens  of  the  land. 
First  came  the  minei's. 

The  history  of  the  earlier  miners  is  a  record  of 
brutal  crimes,  not  only  against  the  Indian  inhabi- 
tants, but  against  each  other.  The  lazy  and  reckless 
often   banded  together,  jumping  the  claims  of  the 

607 


ii 


;  :  ■  i 


•I 


iiNimiwiM^t*! 


f  . 


608 


MINERS. 


weak  and  timid,  and  shooting  like  a  dog  the  man 
supposed  to  be  brave. 

But  order  was  gradually  evolved  even  from  this 
chaos.  The  Government  passed  laws  defining  and 
fixing  the  rights  of  miners,  and  in  the  absence  of 
proper  officers  to  enforce  these  laws,  the  better  class 
of  miners  banded  together,  and  fixed  them  upon  the 
minds  of  the  disorderly  by  the  terrible  sentences  of 
Judge  Lynch. 

Considering  the  heterogeneous  elements  of  which 
miners'  society  is  composed,  the  universal  custom  of 
carrying  deadly  weapons,  the  recklessness  of  men 
under  the  influence  of  the  strongest  of  passions,  un- 
fettered by  the  restraints  of  law,  and  deprived  of  the 
softening  influence  of  reputable  women,  the  mining 
communities  of  the  present  day  are  remarkable  for 
the  aljsencc  of  crime. 

To  the  discovery  of  the  precious  metals,  and  the 
passion  of  those  who  search  foi-  them,  we  owe  a 
knowledge  and  development  of  the  Great  Western 
wilderness  which  could  not  havi'  been  gained  by  a 
century  of  ordinary  effort.  These  men  have  built  up 
great  states,  and  i)eopled  a  vast  continent.  Restless, 
pushing,  bent  only  on  gold  and  silver,  they  have  had 
no  time  and  less  inclination  to  consider  the  rights  of 
the  oi'iginal  owners  of  the  soil.  Men  who  would 
demolish  the  house  of  a  white  friend,  were  gold 
discovered  beneath  it,  are  not  likely  to  stickle  at 
territorial  limits,  or  regard  the  lines  of  Indian  Res- 
ervations. 

Xext  in  order  came  the  Great  uVmerican  Buffalo 
Destroyer,  fearless  as  a  Bayard,  unsavory  as  a  skunk, 
whom  T  have  suffit  icMtly  d<\s(  ribed  in  (chapter  XXTI. 

For  every  single  buffalo  that  roamed  the  Plains  in 


mmiimmr<\iitmmmm 


WiUMMMiiflW«si«*« 


COW-BOYS. 


009 


1871,  there  are  in  1881  not  L's:s  than  two,  and  more 
probably  four  or  five,  of  the  doscencUints  of  the  long- 
horned  cattle  of  Texas.  The  destroyers  of  the  buf- 
falo are  followed  by  the  preservers  of  the  cattle. 

Years  ago,  while  yet  a  cherished  portion  of  Mexico, 
Texas  was  famous  Ibi'  its  cattle.  Individuals  owned 
thousands,  even  tens  of  thousands,  which  i-oamed 
ahnost  at  will,  over  the  vast  and  I'ertile  plains.  The 
care  of  these  was  left  to  a  few  men  and  a  crowd  of 
Mexican  boys  from  eight  to  twenty  yeaivs  of  age;  for 
not  nniclj  money  could  be  paid  in  wages,  when  the 
finest  cow  or  fattest  ox  was  worth  but  two  or  three 
dollars. 

Al'tei-  the  annexation  of  Texas  to  the  United  States 
the  earlier  drives  of  great  liei'ds  of  cattle  wei'c  ac- 
companied by  such  nuuibers  of  these  boys,  that  all 
the  herders  were  commonly  called  "  Texas  Cow-boys;" 
and  1  bough  the  cattle  business  has  now  spread  over  the 
greater  ijoi'tion  of  the  great  West ;  though  the  price  of 
cattle  has  increased  so  enormously  that  the  best  wages 
are  given;  and  though  the  Mexican  boys  ai-e  ivplaced 
by  i'ull-gi'own  white  men,  the  aj)p('llative  "  covz-boy  " 
is  everywhere  "  out  west "  connnonly  applied  to  all 
those  who  herd  cattle. 

The  daily  life  of  the  cow-boy  is  so  replete  with 
privation,  hardship  and  danger,  that  it  is  a  jnarvel 
how  any  sane  man  can  voluntarily  assume  it,  yet 
thousands  of  men  not  only  do  assume  it,  but  actu- 
ally like  it  to  infatuation. 

I  doubt  if  there  be  in  the  whole  world  a  class  of 
men  who  lead  lives  so  solitary,  so  exposed  to  constant 
hardship  and  danger,  as  this. 

A  large  herd  of  cattle  will  be  guarded  by  a  num- 
ber of  men,  who  have  a  common  place  for  eating  and 


\\       1.-1 


r«a^  ,*. 


•*I' 


610 


HARDSHIPS   OP   THE   COW-BOY. 


sleeping,  but  they  are  never  there  together.  Day 
and  night,  in  good  weather  and  bad  weathei-,  some  of 
them  must  be  with  the  herd.  The  men  are  divided 
up  into  rehefs,  each  relief  being  on  duty  in  the  saddle 
not  less  than  eight  hours  of  the  twenty-foui-,  and 
each  individual  having  a  specified  beat  sometimes 
eight  or  ten  miles  long.  Each  relief  must  go  around 
the  whole  herd,  see  that  all  are  quiet  and  un- 
molested. The  outside  limits  are  carefully  watched, 
and  if  any  animals  have  strayed  beyond  them,  their 
trail  must  be  followed  up,  and  the  fugitives  driven 
back  to  their  proper  grazing  ground.  Under  ordi- 
nary circumstances,  and  when  the  herd  is  simply  being 
held  on  certain  good  grazing  ground,  with  abundance 
of  water,  these  duties  are  comparatively  easy;  but 
when  the  grass  is  poor,  and  water  scarce,  the  animals 
stray  continually,  and  great  watchfulness  and  labor 
are  required  for  their  care. 

Especially  is  this  the  case  in  winter,  when  the 
grass  is  'covered  with  snow.  Cattle  in  large  herds 
are  easily  stampeded,  becoming  panic-stricken  on  very 
slight,  and  frequently  without,  provocation.  ^N^othing 
so  starts  them  as  a  Plains  "  N^orther,"  and  they  will 
fly  before  a  severe  storm  of  wind  and  snow  some- 
times for  incredible  distances.  These  are  the  trying 
times  for  the  cow-boys.  AVhen  a  stampede  occurs 
from  any  cause,  every  man  nuist  be  in  the  saddle, 
follow  the  fleeing  animals  day  and  night,  get  control 
of  the  herd  and  bring  it  back  to  its  ground.  The 
worse  the  weather,  the  worse  the  stampede,  and  the 
greater  tlie  necessity  for  the  presence  and  activity  of 
th*'  cow-boys. 

A  terrible  Norther,  during  the  Avinter  of  1880, 
8tan)|xjded  many  herds  in  Southern  Kansas  and  the 


m 


DESPEIJADOES. 


Gil 


><^i 


^ 


of 
led 

lie 
bd 


Cherokee  strip,  some  of  which  made  fully  ninety 
miles  to  the  south  before  being  got  under  control. 
"With  and  among  them  Avcrc  numbers  of  cow-boys, 
with  only  the  scantiest  ration  of  bread  and  meat,  with 
no  shelter  oi'  bedding,  with  no  protection  from  the 
terrible  cold  except  the  clothing  they  happened  to 
have  on  when  the  stampede  was  announced. 

For  fidelity  to  duty,  for  promptness  and  vigor  of 
action,  for  resources  in  difficulty,  and  unshaken 
coui-age    in   danger,  the   cow-boy   has   no   superior 


among  men. 


But  there  is  something  in  this  peculiar  life  whick 
develops  not  only  the  highest  virtues,  but  the  most 
ignol)le  of  vices.  It  is  not  solitude,  for  the  shepherds 
of  the  Plains  lead  lives  quite  as  solitary,  and  they  are 
generally  quiet,  inoffensive  persons.  The  cow-boy, 
on  the  contrary,  is  usually  the  most  reckless  of  all 
the  reckless  desperadoes  developed  on  the  frontier. 
Disregarding  equally  the  i-ights  and  lives  of  others, 
and  utterly  reckless  of  his  own  life;  always  ivady 
with  his  weapons  and  spoiling  for  a  fight,  he  is  the 
terror  of  all  who  come  near  him,  his  visits  to  the 
frontier  towns  of  Kansas  and  N'cbraska  being  re- 
gai-ded  as  a  calamity  second  only  to  a  Avestern  tor- 
nado. His  idea  of  enjoyment  is  to  fill  himself  full  of 
bad  whiskey,  mount  his  mustang,  teai-  through  the 
sti-eets,  whooping,  yelling,  flourishing  and  firing  his 
pistols  until  the  streets  are  deserted  and  every  house 
closed,  then  Avith  a  grim  smile  of  happiness  he  dashes 
off  to  his  comrades  to  excite  their  envy  by  graphic 
pictures  of  his  OAvn  exploits  and  the  terror  of  the 
timid  townspeople. 

Cattle-stealing  is  a  mania  not  confined  solely  to  our 
Scotch  ancestors.    The  fi-ontier  has  many  "  cow-boys  " 

38 


I 


(^ 


I   ' 


I 


612 


A   TERRIFIED    RUFFIAX. 


out  of  employ,  many  impecunious  gentlemen  who  long 
yearningly  lor  a  herd  of  cattle.  The  "waifs  and 
strays  "  of  large  herds,  or  even  a  considerable  herd, 
carelei-sly  guarded,  will  suddenly  disappear.  Some- 
times tiie  herdsmen  and  the  cattle  disappear  togetlier, 
and  should  the  owner  be  absent,  arc  likely  to  dis- 
appear for  him  for  all  time. 

In  1872  the  owner  of  a  considerable  herd  returned 
to  his  ranche  in  Southeastern  Kansas  after  a  short 
absence,  to  find  his  herd  and  herdci'S  gone.  Talcing 
the  trail  alone,  he  plodded  west  for  more  than  one 
hundred  miles,  when  he  found  about  half  his  herd  in 
the  possession  of  a  notorious  desperado  near  where 
Larncd  City  now  stands.  On  inquiry  he  found  they 
had  recently  been  jmrchased  of  a  man  who  had  gone 
still  further  west  with  the  other  half.  Following  on, 
he  found  his  herd  in  charge  of  its  reputed  owner  on 
the  Arkansas  River  near  Fort  Dodge.  The  thief  was 
the  most  notoriously  blood-thirsty  ruffian  on  tlie 
frontier.  After  a  terrible  combat  the  thief  Avas  killed, 
and  the  owner,  collecting  his  cattle,  retui-ned  with 
them  eastward.  Arriving  at  the  ranche  of  the  robber 
who  had  his  others,  he  went  to  him  and  said  quietly, 
"I  have  taken  the  scalp  of  your  partner  and  got  half 
my  cattle.  I  want  to  know  if  I'll  have  to  take  your 
scalp  to  get  the  other  half."  The  terrified  ruffian 
gave  them  up  without  a  contest. 

A  few  years  ago  the  beef  contractor  at  one  of  the 
military  posts  in  the  Indian  Territory  had  an  adven- 
ture Avhich  I  will  let  him  tell  in  his  own  idiom. 

"Wall,  boys,  I  was  mighty  nigh  onto  busted  that 
time,  an'  I'll  tell  you  about  it.  You  see  I'd  woi-ked 
hard  an'  roughed  it,  an'  got  a  nice  little  lot  of  cattle. 
The  contract  for  this  post  was  to  be  let,  I  bid  on  it, 


■«.'-*     ■•I-* 


A  HANDSOME   OUTFIT. 


G13 


nd 

h 

lie- 
er, 
is- 

kd 
)rt 


ing 


an'  got  it.     Wall,  my  cattle  was  nono  of  the  best,  the 
grass  was  poor,  an'  afore  long  the  eonnnandin'  omeor 
says   to  inc,  says  he, 'There's  complaints  agin  your 
beef,  you  must  do  better,  or  I  will  order  the  com- 
missary to  buy  good  beef  and  charge  it  to  yei-.'    Says 
I, '  Conmiandlu'  ollicer,  I  know  my  beef  is  none  of  the 
best,  but  give  me  a  little  time,  and   I'll  get  yer  the 
very  best.'     ^Vll  right,'  says  he, '  but  do  it.'     So  next 
mornin'  I  put  some  money  in  my  belt  and  stai-ted  for 
Texas.     I  bought  a  hundred  and  fifty  head  of  first 
class  beef,  and  hired  a  Mexican  boy  to  help  uk;  drive 
'em.     He  was  only  a  little  chap  about  twelve  years 
old,  but  he  was  powerful  bright  and  handy,  and,  sand! 
lots!    T  had  a  breech-loadiu'  rifle,  and  i)istols,  but  the 
Injuns  was  bad,  so  I  bought  a  double-barrelled  shot- 
gun for  the  boy.     Everything  went  on  all  right  till 
we'd  got  into  the  territory  about  one  hundred  miles 
from  here.     One  mornin'  we  was  movin'  along,  when 
a  man  rode  up  to  me.     He  was  a  small-sized  man,  but 
the  handsomest   man   I   ever   seed,  an'  dressed   the 
liandsomest.     lie  had  on  high  boots,  big  silver  si)ui's, 
an'  buckskin  breeches,  an'  a  buckskin  huntin'-shirt 
all   over   fringes,  an'  open   at   the   front.      He   had 
on  a  white  biled  shii't,  an'  a  red  silk  necktie   with 
long  ends  a   flyin'  behind.     Around  his  waist  was 
a  red    silk    sash,   an'   he   wore    a  regular   Mexican 
sombrero,  an'   his   bridle  an'   saddle   was  Mexican, 
an'   covered   with   silver.      lie   was   on   a   splendid 
mustang  that  bucked  an'  shied  all  the  time,  but  he 
rode  him  like  his  skin.     I  tell  you,  boys,  it  was  a 
handsome  outfit.      ^  Good  mornin','  says  he,  a  llftin' 
up  his  hat  mighty  polite.     "'Good  mornin','  says  I, 
an'  with  that  we  chatted  along  pleasant  like.     He  told 
me  that  he  had  a  big  herd  of  cattle  about  three  miles 


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614 


GOVERXMENT   PROPERTY. 


ti'- 


to  the  cast,  an'  he  was  afraid  I'd  give  'em  the  fever, 
an'  he  wanted  me  to  keep  more  to  the  left,  off  his 
range.  Wall,  I  was  agreeable,  an'  he  kept  with  me 
for  a  mile  an'  more,  showin'  me  where  to  go  and  then 
thankin'  me  polite,  he  said  good-bye,  an'  rode  off. 
"Wall  now,  boys,  I  had  kept  on  the  course  he  told  me 
for  about  two  hours,  when  just  bcyant  a  little  rise  I 
drove  right  into  my  gentleman  friend  an'  six  other 
fcilcrs  Ridin'  right  up  to  me,  my  friend  says,  says 
he,  '  after  thinkin'  it  over,  I  have  concluded  it  would 
be  a  pity  to  lose  such  a  extra  fine  lot  of  beef  cattle  as 
you  have  got,  so  I  have  concluded  to  take  'em  in.' 
Wall,  boys,  I  saw  right  through  the  thing  in  a  minit. 
I  knowed  it  were  no  use  to  fight  agin  so  many,  so  I 
begged.  I  told  him  how  I  was  situate,  that  if  I 
didn't  get  them  cattle  to  the  post  I  was  ruinated.  lie 
listened  for  a  fcAV  minutes  pretty  quiet,  an'  I  thot  I 
had  got  him,  when  all  at  once  he  drawed  a  pistol,  an' 
all  the  other  fellers  drawed  their  pistols  at  the  same 
time. 

'"My  friend,'  says  he,  Sve  don't  take  no  advantage 
of  cattle-men,  but  them  cattle  of  yours  is  the  same  as 
Government  property.  They  is  going  to  feed  soldiers. 
All  such  property  is  as  much  ours  as  anybody's,  now 
you  git' — and  with  that  he  stuck  his  cocked  pistol  in 
my  face,  an'  all  the  other  six  stuck  their  cocked  pis- 
tols at  me.  Wall,  boys,  me  and  that  Mexican  boy — 
w^e  left. 

"Them  fellers  mounded  up  my  cattle,  an'  drove  'em 
back  ther  own  way.  Boys,  my  heart  was  most 
broke.  I  knowed  I  was  ruinated  if  I  lost  them  cat- 
tle. Wall,  we  travelled  along  for  a  mile  or  more, 
when  1  made  up  my  mind.  ^  Domingo,'  says  I  to  the 
little   Mexican,   '  are  you  afeared  to  stay  and  take 


GETTING  IN  HIS   WORK. 


C15 


care  of  the  bosses,  while  T  settle  Avith  them  chap^?' 
'  ]S"o,'  says  he,  'an'  I'll  help  you  ef  you  want  me.' 

"The  country  was  about  half  prah-le,  an'  t'other 
half  the  thickest  kind  of  black  jack,  and  scrub-oak 
thickets.  I  hid  that  boy  an'  them  bosses  wher  a 
hound  couldn't  ev  found  'em,  and  when  it  got  towards 
evenin',  I  started  on  foot  to  hunt  up  my  friends'  cattle 
camp,  an'  as  I  knowcd  I  had  to  get  in  my  work  in  the 
dark  an'  at  close  range,  I  took  the  boy's  double-bar- 
rel shot-gun,  each  bariel  loaded  with  sixteen  buck- 
shot, an'  big  size  at  that. 

''About  midnight  I  found  the  hei-d.   The  cattle  was 
held  in  a  prairie  with  thickets  all  around  it.     I  poked 
around,  keepin'  in  the  thickets.     They  had  about  a 
thousand  head  not  countin'  mine.      I  found  ther  'duo* 
out.'     Ther  was  two  men  on  herd.     I  poked  around 
till  I  found  wher  my  cattle  was.     They  knowed  me, 
an  didn't  make   no  fuss  when  I   went  among   'em. 
Thar  I  laid  down  in  the  grass.     In  about  an  hour 
one  of  tlie  herders  i-ode  right  close  on  to  me,  an'  I  let 
him  have  one  bar)-el.     In  a  minit  the  other  herder 
hollered  out,  'what  the  h — 1  is  that,'  an'  getiin  no 
answer  he  galloped  right  over  ther,  and  I  give  him 
the  other  barrel.     I  got  back  to  the  thicket  and  went 
to  my  camp,  an'  to  sleep.     !N^ext  mornin'  when  the  sun 
was  way  up,  that  boy  he  woke  me,  an'  says,  says  he, 
'ther  bavin  a  high  time  in  that  camp,  you  had  better 
be  looking  after  'em.'     Wall,  I  got  my  breakfast  an 
went  to  look  after  'em.     They  wus  in  a  big  commo- 
tion, all  of  'em  together,  huntin'  everywhere  for  my 
trail.     I  had  wored  mocassins,  an'  I  knowed  none  of 
'em  fellows  could  follow  my  trail.     I  had  another  big 
advantage  of  'em.     They  couldn't  go  nowhere  unless 
they  wus  on  hossback,  and  the  brush  wus  so  thick  they 


■''i. 

'■  ^-  , 

f  f " 

■  4 

■  it' 


n 

-m 


1* 


v^.: 


-.if 
■  r,  -v. 


J 


-  ■*7''''^*t'?™  , 'VT'*  .\'*'' 


(>i 


j'^'sfV'  '"'*/'.T":*j7'»..' " 


■  %■'■■ 


G16 


THE   CAREFUL   CAPTAIN. 


had  to  ride  in  the  open  prairie  whar  I  could  see  'em. 
I  poked  round  in  the  thicket  wher  they  couldn't  see 
me.  Next  night  I  tried  it  agin,  but  they  wus  all  on 
herd  and  held  the  cattle  out  in  the  prairie  so  fur  from 
the  woods  that  I  had  no  show.  I  changed  my  plan,  an' 
went  back  to  my  camp.  Next  mornin'  I  was  out  early 
pokin'  in  the  thickets  and  watchin'.  A  lot  of  cattle 
grazed  lip  towards  a  pint  of  woods.  I  knowed  they 
would  jtop  that  soon,  so  I  hid  in  that  pint.  Pretty 
soon  a  feller  came  chargin'  round  on  a  full  run  after 
them  cattle.  He  was  a  likely  chap,  an'  I  felt  a  little 
oneasy  until  I  recognized  him  as  having  stuck  a 
pistol  in  my  face  tAvo  days  before.     I  got  him. 

"  Wall,  boys,  thar's  no  use  in  stringiu'  this  thing 
c  t.  Them  chaps  wus  scared  from  the  start,  and 
would  have  got  out  of  thar,  if  they  hadn't  had  to  go 
through  thickets.  I  knowed  that,  an'  took  it  easy. 
In  three  days  I  had  gradually  got  away  with  them. 
They  was  so  fcAv  that  they  couldn't  herd  ther  cattle. 
On  the  mornin'  of  the  foui'th  day  I  noticed  a  lot  of 
cattle  feedin'  off.  They  wus  nigh  two  miles  from  the 
dug-out — I  laid  with  'em,  but  in  the  thicket.  To- 
wards afternoon  a  feller  came  dashin'  in  at  full  speed 
an'  rounded  up  within  twenty  feet  of  me.  When  he 
fell  he  was  so  tied  up  in  his  lariat  that  he  stopped  the 
hoss.  I  caught  an'  tied  that  boss  in  a  thicket,  so  that 
the  others  at  the  dug-out  wouldn't  know  this  man 
was  dead. 

After  the  second  day  I  had  never  seed  my  fine  cap- 
tam.  He  liad  made  tlie  others  take  chances,  but  he 
had  stayed  in  the  dug-out,  an'  run  no  risk  himself. 
I  thought  if  T  could  get  him  I'd  be  all  right.  So, 
afore  day  next  mornhv  I  hid  in  a  break  about  twenty 
yards  from  the  door  of  the  dug-out,  an  just  at  day- 


•i  »..;.... 


-I-' ft^^'j,.:  r-^nvf-^ir-'-v^^.V**  -  y-,. 


COMPLICATIONS. 


617 


break  I  covered  that  door  with  my  shot-gun,  an'  fired 
off  my  pistol  with  the  other  hand.  As  I  expected,  he 
jumped  out  of  the  door  with  his  gun  in  his  hand,  but 
he  had  no  chance  an'  no  time,  I  doubled  him  up  right 
in  the  door.  In  a  few  minits  a  white  rag  was  stuck 
out  cf  the  door  on  a  stick.  I  called  to  the  man  to 
come  out,  and  put  up  his  hands,  an'  he  did.  I  walked 
up  an'  said  to  him,  'I  ought  to  kill  you,  but  I  won't  if 
you  will  do  as  I  tell  yer.  Get  your  boss,  cut  out  my 
cattle,  and  drive  'em  over  to  that  hill.'  He  said,  says 
he,  '  I  never  saw  you  before,  an'  I  don't  know  your 
cattle ;  I  am  the  cook  of  this  outfit,  an'  I  am  the  only 
man  left.'  So  I  made  him  get  me  a  boss,  an'  he  an 
me  cut  out  my  cattle,  an'  drove  'em  over  near  my 
camp,  an'  me  an'  the  boy  took  'em,  and  by  hard  drivin' 
got  to  the  post  in  time.  It  were  a  tight  fit,  boys;  an' 
now,  what '11  yer  have  to  drink." 

To  the  miners  and  the  cow-boys  we  owe  most  of 
our  complications  with  Indians.  The  one  class  in 
search  of  the  precious  metals;  the  other  in  search  of 
good  grazing  grounds;  the  one  os^er-running  the 
mountains,  the  other  pre-empting  the  plains  and  val- 
leys ;  all,  careless  of  the  rights,  and  impatient  of  the 
claims,  of  Indians;  all,  with  a  ferocity  begot  of  greed, 
hating  the  Indian,  hating  a  Government  which,  they 
believe,  protects  and  perpetually  nauperizes  the  In- 
dian at  their  expense;  all  ready  and  willing  to  bring 
on  any  conflict  between  the  Government  and  the  In- 
dian, which  may  lessen  the  numbers  and  diminish  the 
Territory  of  the  latter;  they  go  anywhere  and  every- 
where, constantly  pushing  the  Indian  to  the  wall, 
constantly  forcing  issues  suited  to  their  own  ends; 
constantly  showing  the  inadequacy  of  the  laws  and 
forces  of  a  popular  government  to  the  enforcement 


'■'.■'tf'iJv 


,j*»-- 


•'WMtHWMwwuJu; 


■  •v.i'j  ,W5  T' ;^' ^v"y^'?*- ,"* 


■>•'■  V 


^ 
'S^' 


618 


CITIZENSHIP   OR  EXTINCTION. 


of  unpopular  measures,  and  rendering  futile  and 
ridiculous  all  treaties  made  with  Indians. 

The  mijiers  opened  and  settled  the  Black  Hills  in 
spite  of  Indian  and  Government;  the  cow-boys  will 
open  the  Territory  in  spite  of  Indian  and  Govern- 
ment. It  is  simply  a  question  of  time,  and  not  a  long 
time. 

Those  humane  persons  who  have  the  true  interests 
of  the  Indians  at  heart  will  do  well  to  recognize  the 
fact  that  there  is  no  power  in  this  Government  to 
maintain  the  status  quo.  The  Indian  must  be  in- 
vested with  the  rights  and  duties  of  a  citizen,  or  he 
must  go.  The  majority  of  the  people  of  this  country 
may  be  willing  to  maintain  him  in  idleness,  pauperism, 
and  in  the  possession  of  territories  sufficient  to  main- 
tain a  great  nation  of  whites.  The  miners  and  cow- 
boys are  not  willing, —  they  are  on  the  ground.  The 
problem  is  for  their  solution. 


p.. . 


:t' ' 


;i.'tf.''*,j,'/*.i  j,'_Vk  .;-<:V'  '.  V-ii*' .' 


■■..^lr»ii.-.<li.i«     .■  /..<.i.  !,>. . 


v.Mmm,if^'^ 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

BORDER     RUFFIANS  —  A    LIFE     OF    PRFVATTON    AND 
DANGER  —  THRILLING   PERSONAL   EXPERIENCES. 

Fugitives  from  Justice  —  Escaped  Criminals  —  Beyond  the  Settlements 
—  Commencing  Life  Anew  —  An  Exploring  Expedition  in  Northern 
Texas  —  Thrilling  Incident  in  My  Early  jniitary  Life  —  My  Camp 
near  the  Squatter's  Cabin  —  Alone  witli  a  Frontier  Ruflian  —  A  Dan- 
gerous Companion  —  He  Tlireatens  my  Life  —  Strange  Hospitality  — 
A  Reckless  Frontiersman  —  The  Monomania  of  Assassination  —  A 
Wonderful  Two-lianded  Shot  —  Desperate  Combat  of  Two  Border 
Ruftians  —  Dying  Happy  —  Slade,  the  Notorious  Desperado  —  An  Ar- 
rant Coward  —  Tiie  Intluence  of  Drink  —  Strange  Freak  of  a  Man  of 
Wealth  —  A  Tender  Ileai-t  Beneath  a  Rough  Exterior  —  Burying 
Himself  in  the  Wilderness  —  A  Lawless  Life. 

N  the  "good  old  times"  there  was  a 
class  of  frontiersmen,  behind  the  trap- 
per, trader,  and  squaw-man,  but  though 
in  many  cases  actual  settlers,  tillers  of 
the  soil,  yet  carefully  keeping  as  far  as 
possible  in  advance  of  the  tide  of  actual 
settlement.  These  were  fugitives  from 
justice  and  escaped  criminals.  These 
men  would  go  beyond  the  line  of  settle- 
ments as  fttr  as  they  dared,  build  cabins,  send  for 
their  families,  and  under  assumed  names  commence 
life  anew.  They  were  a  peculiar  people.  Almost  all 
were  extremely  inquisitive  and  suspicious,  but  many 
had  humane,  hospitable  traits,  while  others  were  as 
savaffe  and  dangerous  as  their  Indian  neighbors. 
The  latter  as  a  rule  moved  forward  as  the  frontier 

619 


..t 


•A*-.; 


^ 


■  ■-'  v;- 


-■%.■ 


'■'fpvf''\-<^-f^'  ^ii',. 


■^•fv.:.  ■'"'*■*■.  ■iiT;'"%r"r:f-'E""ji  »^:ryyi^;-j 


'/■.v**'*^""c.- ■'■''"'• 


620 


THE   SQUATTER. 


;  *  • 


f 


advanced;  the  former,  in  many  instances,  living  down 
the  haunting  fear  of  the  officers  of  the  law,  became 
respected  members  of  the  communities  which  grew 
up  around  them. 

In  my  earlier  military  life  on  the  frontier  I  met 
numbers  of  these  people,  almost  always  self-con- 
victed and  easily  distinguishable  ficm  the  bona  fide 
settler^.  Invariably  they  were  hospitable  and  ready 
to  give  aid  or  information  to  white  strangers,  but  an 
adventure  I  had  with  one,  nearly  thirty  years  ago, 
gave  me  something  of  a  distaste  for  their  intimate 
companionship. 

I  was  on  a  scouting  and  exploring  expedition  in 
Northern  Texas.  After  many  days  and  weeks  of 
tedious  travel  without  sign  of  settlement,  I  came 
*upon  a  little  one-room  one-story  log  house,  the  owner 
of  which  had  something  of  a  farm  in  cultivation,  and 
a  small  surplus  of  corn  in  store.  My  horses  were 
nearly  "played  out,"  and  I  gladly  availed  myself  of 
this  opportunity  to  rest  and  recuperate  men  and 
animals. 

The  "  squatter  "  was  a  tall,  handsome  man,  in  the 

prime  of  life,  very  hospitable,  and  urgent  that  I 
should  take  "bed  and  board  "  with  him.  Declining 
this,  I  nevertheless  camped  near  his  house  for  con- 
venience, determined  to  remain  until  I  had  exhausted 
his  stores  of  forage  or  got  my  horses  in  good  march- 
ing order. 

During  several  daj'^s  I  was  with  him  whenever  my 
duties  permitted.  He  was  an  admirable  hunter,  I  a 
mere  novice,  delighted  with  the  opportunity  to  gain 
instruction  and  information.  We  hunted  together 
every  day  most  successfully.  One  day  I  went  out 
alone,  and  failing  in  my  designs  against  deer  and 


•i  J»i-!V».: 


I'm  glad  I  didn't  shoot  yer. 


621 


turkeys,  strayed  into  the  heavily  timbered  river  "  bot- 
tom," and  for  an  hour  or  two  greatly  enjoyed  myself 
shooting  squirrels.  Securing  a  good  bag,  I  started 
for  my  camp,  but  had  gone  but  a  few  hundred  yards 
■when  I  came  plump  upon  my  frontier  friend. 

He  was  seated  on  a  log,  concealed  within  a  little 
thicket,  nervously  fumbling  with  the  lock  of  hi.s  rifle; 
and  when  I  came  to  look  closely  at  him,  he  had  the 
most  diabolic  expression  of  countenance  I  ever  saw 
on  a  man. 

"Hello,  old  fellow,"  said  I,  on  recognizing  him, 
"  have  you  had  any  luck?  " 

He  made  no  answer  for  some  time,  but  continued 
to  thumb  the  lock  of  his  gun,  looking  at  me  in  such  a 
way  that  I  began  to  think  him  insane. 

After  some  moments  he  broke  out  in  a  loud  voice : 

"Why,  I  could  have  killed  you  just  as  easy  as 
winkin';  you  don't  i^ay  no  sort  of  attention  when  you 
are  in  the  woods." 

"  You  might  have  killed  me  any  time  in  the  last 
four  days,"  I  answered;  "I  have  not  been  looking 
for  danger  from  you." 

He  looked  at  me  wildly  for  a  moment,  then  rising 
with  an  effort,  shouldered  his  rifle  and  came  out  and 
joined  me. 

"  ^o  man,"  said  he,  "  could  ha'  come  on  me  that 
way.  It  was  a  powerful  temptation.  I  am  glad  I 
didn't  shoot  yer,  but  I  wouldn't  advise  yer  to  go 
pokin'  about  that  way  often." 

We  returned  together  amicably  to  his  house,  where 
he  insisted  on  my  taking  supper.  During  the  meal 
he  so  impressed  me  with  anecdotes  of  his  past  life  (by 
his  showing  he  had  killed  sevei-al  men),  and  enco- 
miums upon  himself  for  not  killing  me  when  he  had  so 


.  •<- 


622 


SLADE   TUB   ASSASSIN. 


good  a  chance,  that  so  long  as  I  remained  in  that 
neighborhood  I  never  hunted  alone  without  keeping 
as  close  a  watch  on  all  my  surroundings  as  if  the 
country  had  been  infested  with  hostile  Indians. 

I  have  hunted  with  many  Indians  of  different  tribes, 
and  do  not  believe  that  such  an  opportunity  would 
have  offered  a  like  temptation  to  any  Indian  profess- 
ing friendship,  and  whose  tribe  was  at  peace.  The 
incident  only  shows  that  white  men,  ostracized  and 
reckless,  become  more  savage  than  the  savages  them- 
selves.    Assassination  becomes  a  monomania. 

I  have  known  a  frontier  ruffian  to  make  a  jou/ney 
of  two  hundred  miles  to  have  a  fight  with  another 
whose  fame  as  a  "  dead  shot  "  rivalled  his  own. 

In  1871  a  deputy  United  States  Marshal,  of  South- 
ern Kansas,  —  a  wonderful  two-handed  shot,  that  is, 
using  a  pistol  equally  well  with  either  hand,  —  was 
ordered  to  arrest  a  notorious  bully.  In  the  conflict 
which  ensued  both  were  shot  through  the  body.  Some 
hours  after,  the  dying  ruffian  asked  how  the  Marshal 
•vyas,  and  being  told  that  he  could  not  live  until  morn- 
ing, expressed  himself  satisfied  and  happy. 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  die,"  said  he,  "  when  I 
know  I  take  along  with  me  the  best  pistol-shot  on 
this  fi'ontier." 

The  Marshal  recovered. 

Slade,  the  most  successful  assassin  on  the  frontier, 
who  had  mui'dered  in  cold  blood  over  fifty  men,  some- 
times tying  them  to  a  stake  and  practising  at  them 
with  his  pistol,  as  he  did  Jules,  was  the  most  arrant 
coward  in  existence.  When  his  own  time  came,  he 
begged  on  his  knees,  crying  and  whining  like  a 
whipped  cur. 

Under  all  the  selfishness,  the  recklessness,  the  in- 


■>UIII"(|1|H 


THE   DANGEROUS   CLASSES. 


G23 


lat 
le 


% 


difference  to  the  rights  of  property,  and  clisregartl  of 
human  life,  many  of  these  frontiersmen  carry  warm, 
human  hearts,  full  of  hospitality,  generosity,  kindness, 
and  charity. 

One  of  the  most  abominable  old  rulRans  I  ever 
knew,  who,  under  the  influence  of  greed  or  whiskey 
was  a  perfect  devil,  was,  when  not  possessed  by  either 
of  these  fiends,  an  honest,  honorable,  humane,  tender- 
hearted gentleman.  A  merchant  of  means  and  good 
standing  in  one  of  our  large  cities,  he  fell  under  the 
influence  of  drink.  His  wife  sued  for  and  obtained  a 
divorce  and  alimony.  When  he  had  gotten  sober 
enough  to  realize  the  calamity,  he  sold  out  his  store, 
settled  all  he  had  in  the  world  —  nearly  one  hundred 
and  ninety  thousand  dollars  —  on  his  wife  and  three 
sons,  and  taking  only  a  change  of  clothing  and  a  fron- 
tier outfit  of  arms  and  necessaries,  he  buried  himself 
in  the  wilderness. 

I  knew  him  well, —  hanging  around  a  frontier  town 
a  filthy,  greasy,  blear-eyed,  dangerous  brute;  in  the 
wilderness  a  courageous,  courteous,  intellectual,  gen- 
tleman. 

There  are  '^  dangerous  classes  "  in  all  communities. 
Frontiersmen  come  from  all  grades  of  society,  all 
classes  of  people.  With  the  restraints  of  law  and 
public  opinion  they  would  present  the  different  char- 
acteristics of  ordinary  humanity.  Without  law  or 
moral  surroundings  they  develop  peculiarities,  which, 
however,  are  only  the  shells  in  which  circumstances 
and  surroundings  encase  the  men. 


4 


.M: 


4 


CHAPTER  L. 


\ 

x^ 


FRONTIER  SCOUTS   AND    GUIDES  —  HEROIC    ACHIEVE- 
MENT  OP   AMOS   CHAPMAN  —  FACING   DEATH. 

Plainscraft —  Importance  of  Guides  —  The  Old  Trajipers  —  Lessons  from 
the  Indians  —  IIow  an  Experienced  Guide  wius  Lost  —  Old  Hridgcr — • 
Kit  Carson  — The  Ucquisites  of  a  Good  Scout  —  Hoots  Hill  —  California 
Joe— Wild  Bill  — Hiiffalo  Bill  — Amos  Chapman  —  Ilis  AVondcrful 
Achievement  —  What  Gen.  Miles  Said  of  Him  —  Heroic  Conduct  of 
Cliapman  —  Surrounded  by  Indians  —  A  Thrilling  Deed  —  "Amos! 
Amos!  We  have  got  you  now  "  —  Remarkable  Pluck  —  Facing  Death 
to  Rescue  a  Wounded  Comrade  —  Major  Forsyth's  Fight  —  The  Alarm, 
"Indians!"  —  Gallant  Defence  —  The  Charge  of  Roman  Nose  and 
His  Band  —  Terrific  Volley  from  the  Whites  —  Secret  Departure  of 
the  Scouts  for  Help  —  Threatened  Stan'ation  —  Living  on  Decaying 
Mule  Flesh  —  Succor  at  Last. 

!N^  its  cl'iiilex  capacity,  explorer  of  the 
wilderness  and  guardian  of  the  frontier, 
the  army  finds  constant  use  for  men  ex- 
perienced in  plainscraft  and  in  knowl- 
edge of  Indian  habits  and  languages. 
Some  of  these  men  are  employed  as 
guides;  for  though  an  average  officer, 
trusting  to  his  instruments  and  general 
knowledge  of  country,  may  take  a  command 
safely  through  an  unknown  wilderness,  this  in  very 
mountainous  regions,  or  in  those  portions  of  the 
Plains  where  water  is  scarce,  can  only  be  done  at  the 
expense  of  frequent  delays  and  considerable  suffering. 
The  navigator  of  a  ship  requires  no  aid  in  deep 
water,  but  when  he  nears  the  shore  he  wants  a  pilot 
to  guide  the  vessel  through  intricacies,  the  secret  of 

624 


. ,  ,'^l>. 


TRAPPER   GUIDES. 


G25 


which  can  only  como  from  local  knowledge.  The 
commanding  oflieer  of  an  exploring  expedition  on 
land  may  be  likened  to  the  commander  of  a  vessel 
near  the  shore.  Thongh  he  perfectly  knows  his 
position,  his  bearings  and  hh  conrse,  he  knows  not 
what  rocks  of  precipitons  monntains,  what  i-eefs  of 
impassable  barrancas,  what  shoals  of  waterless  plains, 
lie  between  him  and  his  goal.  lie  thei-efore  ])rocares, 
if  possible,  the  aid  of  some  one  who  has  already  been 
over  the  gronnd. 

Of  all  frontiersmen  the  old  trappers  were  and  are 
the  best  guides.  Learning  their  lessons  from  the 
Indians  with  Avhom  they  were  so  constantly  and 
intimately  associated,  these  men  travel  entii'ely  by 
landmarks;  mountains,  plains,  rocks  and  brakes, 
the  bosky  dell,  the  lone  tree,  the  quality  of  the  grass, 
even  the  nature  of  the  soil,  each  and  all  give  a  definite 
idea  to  the  old  trapper  and  fix  the  location  forever  in 
his  mind.  But  the  trappers  moved  down  one  stream 
and  up  another,  and  though  safe  guides,  they  are 
generally  extremely  slow  and  roundabout  in  their 
movements.  Ignorant  of  geography  and  almost 
entirely  indejiendent  of  the  points  of  the  compass,  they 
will  take  you  where  you  wish  to  go  and  bi-ing  you 
safely  back  again,  but  they  must  do  this  in  their  own 
way,  and  each  by  his  own  sequence  of  landmarks. 

In  this  present  day  of  activity,  they  have  lost  nuich 
of  their  prestige.  They  are  yet  necessary  to  point 
out  obscure  springs  and  water-holes  of  the  prairie, 
or  labyrinthine  passes  over  mountain-ranges,  but  their 
knowledge  is  of  the  past.  Even  "  old  Bridger  "  was 
hopelessly  lost,  wdien  coming  on  to  a  secluded  valley, 
hidden  as  he  supposed  from  all  knowledge  of  white 
men,  he  found  a  railroad  running  through  it.    Every 


X 


■4 


"^^^'* 


t' 

K 

•i 

'V'    " 

M  ■ 

■i  v*._ 

'*---' 

1 

■.  ,  'J 

. 

mmm 


■¥;:^'.'  ■■-''■'.i-. 


'■,9^  j. 


:t",,>i^>«.:,s;^J-; 


626 


DUTIES   OF   SCOUTS    IN    THE    FIELD. 


V 


day  adds  to  army  knowledge;  every  day  diminishes 
the  importance  of  guides. 

The  necessities  of  the  army  in  the  olden  time,  and 
the  then  remarkable  services  of  these  men,  have  caused 
many  of  their  names  to  be  handed  down  in  the  history 
of  our  frontier,  which  is  but  the  history  of  the 
development  of  our  country.  Bridgcr,  Kit  Carson, 
and  many  others,  are  names  which  will  not  be  for- 
gotten. As  trappers  they  gained  the  local  knowledge 
which  they  afterward  applied  to  the  services  of  their 
country. 

To  his  other  accomplishments  the  really  valuable 
scout  must  add  a  fair  knowledge  of  trailing,  and  in 
this  art  the  cow-boy  is  quite  as  efficient  as  older 
plainsmen,  for  he  has  more  constant  necessity  foi*  it. 

No  people  understand  mountainous  regions  so  well 
as  miners,  or  are  better  able  to  judge  "  the  lay  of  the 
land  "  by  its  general  surface  marks. 

Every  class  of  plainsmen  furnishes  some  requisite 
faculty  or  knowledge  valuable  in  a  scout. 

The  success  of  every  expedition  against  Indians 
depends  to  a  degree  on  the  skill,  fidelity  and  intelli- 
gence of  the  men  employed  as  scoots,  for  not  only  is 
the  command  habitually  dependent  on  them  for  good 
routes  and  comfortable  camps,  bui  the  officer  in  com- 
mand must  rely  on  them  almost  entirely  for  his 
knowl'^dge  of  the  position  and  movements  of  the 
enemy.  These  they  learn  by  scouting  far  in  advance 
or  on  the  flanks  of  the  column,  and  here  the  knowledge 
of  trailing  becomes  of  the  utmost  importance. 

An  officer  is  ordered  on  an  expedition  into  the 
Indian  country.  He  looks  in  every  direction  among 
all  the  frontiersmen  available,  to  find  the  men  suited 
to  his  purpose.    It  is  presumed  that  all  are  brave,  so 


i9-: 

I 


m: 


tei  '%,%t 


V»»-V->  >V"*W^''Vv- 


':r^' 


JULESBURG  VOLUNTEERS. 


627 


he  only  examinf^s  the  applicants  as  to  the  qualities 
for  which  he  especially  needs  them. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that,  outside  of  courage,  the 
qualities  most  valuable  in  a  scout  are  those  least 
likely  to  command  admiration  among  the  ordinary 
associates  of  their  possessor.  Bridger  was  rather 
looked  down  upon  because  he  was  sober  and  frugal ; 
Kit  Carson  was  often  sneered  at,  because,  though 
known  to  be  the  bravest  of  the  brave  when  a  fight 
became  absolutely  necessary,  he  would  never  fight  if 
he  could  possibly  avoid  it  even  by  running  away  in 
the  night. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  frontiersmen,  so  utterly 
reckless  of  life  that  they  will  shoot  each  other  for 
mere  pastime,  are  oftentimes  the  most  arrant  cowards 
when  the  antagonist  is  an  Indian. 

Julesburg  was  celebrated  for  its  desperadoes.  N^o 
twenty-four  hours  passed  without  its  contribution  to 
Boots  Hill  (the  cemetery  whose  every  occupant  was 
buried  in  his  boots),  and  homicide  was  performed 
in  vhe  most  genial  whole-souled  way,  the  shooter  and 
shootec  smiling  pleasantly  in  each  other's  faces. 

One  day  a  small  party  of  Indians  appeared  in  the 
sand-hills  back  of  the  town.  The  alarm  spread  like 
wild  fire.  An  ex-oflicer  of  the  war  galloped  about 
calling  for  volunteers.  In  an  hour  a  hundred  men 
were  in  saddle,  every  one  of  whom  had  probably 
killed  his  man.  The  Indians  had  decamped,  taking  a 
numl)er  of  horses.  The  trail  was  broad  and  easily 
followed.  On  dashed  the  hundred  for  ten  or  twelve 
miles.  Said  the  ex-volunteer  commander  afterwards, 
"  We  had  them  sure.  At  the  head  of  Ash  IIolloW 
we  commenced  to  pass  the  played-out  stock.  M^ 
men  were   badly  strung  out.     I  called  to  them,  'A 

39 


MtMlili 


;S^^;Vvj*--^;%v-,*'^^ 


■>>. 


,'fV 


628 


EENOWNED   SCOUTS. 


half-hour  more,  boys,  and  they  arc  ours  —  close  up, 
don't  spare  the  spur!'  In  less  than  half  an  hour  I 
turned  a  bend  of  the  hollow,  and  there  were  the  In- 
dians within  five  hundred  yards.  I  gave  a  great  yell 
and  turned  to  urge  on  the  men.  I  was  alone.  There 
was  not  a  single  man  of  that  whole  hundred  in  sight. 
"Well,  I  just  turned  around  and  got  out  of  that  as 
quick  as  I  could,  and  you  don't  catch  me  again 
volunteering  to  command  men  called  brave,  simply 
because  they  shoot  each  other." 

Of  ten  men  employed  as  scouts  nine  will  prove  to 
be  utterly  worthless.  Of  fifty  so  employed  one  may 
prove  to  be  really  valuable,  but,  though  hundreds,  even 
thousands,  of  men  have  been  so  employed  by  the  Gov- 
ernment since  the  war,  the  number  of  really  remark- 
able men  among  them  can  be  counted  on  the  fingers. 

The  services  which  these  men  are  called  on  to  per- 
form are  so  important  and  valuable  that  the  officer 
who  benefits  by  them  is  sure  to  give  the  fullest  credit; 
arid  men  so  honored  in  official  reports  come  to  be 
great  men  on  the  frontier.  Fremont's  reports  made 
Kit  Carson  a  renowned  man.  Custer  immortalized 
California  Joe;  Custer,  Merritt,  and  Carr  made  "VYild 
Bill  and  Buffalo  Bill,  Plains  celebrities  '"^  until  time 
shall  be  no  more." 

One  of  the  best  and  bravest,  the  most  sober,  quiet 
and  genial  of  all  the  scouts  I  have  ever  known  is 
Amos  Chapman.  Altliough  yet  young,  a  volume 
would  scarcely  suffice  to  give  all  the  desperate  ad- 
ventures and  "hairbreadth  'scapes "  of  this  remark- 
able man.  For  fifteen  years  he  has  been  almost  con- 
tinually employed  by  the  Government,  and  his 
services  and  sufferings  put  him  in  the  front  rank 
of  valuable  citizens. 


■■y.i 


m 


^^^■^■•^'■iif'.:}%^x'-'>fy'y<'''i^''^i),^^'''''Jf^!\'^'i'' 


THE   ATTACK. 


629 


In  1874  Miles  was  operating  against  the  combined 
wild  Indian  forces  of  the  Territory.  The  hostiles 
had  gotten  in  his  i-ear  and  intercepted  his  trains.  It 
was  extremely  important  that  his  situation  should  be 
known  at  Depaitment  Headquarters.  On  the  10th 
of  September,  1874,  a  party  consisting  of  one  Ser- 
geant, three  private  soldiers  and  two  scouts,  in  all  six 
men,  were  directed  to  proceed  to  Camp  Supply  with 
despatches.  What  befell' them  in  their  efforts  to 
obey  the  order  is  fittingly  told  in  the  following  letter 
from  General  Miles  to  the  Adjutant-General  of  the 
Army: — 

Headquauteus,  Ind,  Terr.  Expedition. 
Camp  on  Washita  River,  Texas,  Sept.  24,  1874. 
Adjutant  General,  U.  S.  A. :  — 

(Thro*  Office  Asst.  Adj't.  Gcnl.  Hdqrs.  Dept.  and  Mil.  Div.  of  the  Mo. 
and  of  the  Army.) 

General  :  I  deem  it  but  a  duty  to  brave  men  and  faith- 
ful soldiers,  to  bring  to  the  notice  of  the  highest  military 
authority  an  instance  of  indomitable  courage,  skill,  and  true 
heroism  on  the  part  of  a  detachment  from  this  command,  with 
the  request  that  the  actors  may  be  rewarded,  and  their  faith- 
fulness and  bravery  recognized,  by  pensions,  medals  of  honor, 
or  in  such  way  as  may  be  deemed  most  fitting. 

On  the  night  of  the  10th  inst. ,  a  party  consisting  of  Sergt. 
L.  T.  Woodhall,  Co.  "I,"  Privates  Peter  Rath,  Co.  "A," 
John  Harrington,  Co.  "H,"  and  George  W.  Smith,  Co.  "  M," 
Sixth  Cavalry,  Scouts  Amos  Chapman  and  William  Dixon, 
were  sent  as  bearers  of  despatches  from  the  camp  of  this 
command  on  McCIellan  Creek  to  Camp  Supply,  I.  T. 

At  6  A.  M.  of  the  12th,  when  approaching  the  Washita 
Eiver,  they  were  met  and  surrounded  by  a  band  of  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  Kiowas  and  Comanches,  who  had 
recently  left  their  agency ;  at  the  first  attack  all  were  struck, 
Private  Smith  mortally,  and  three  others  severely  wounded. 
Although  enclosed  on  all  sides  and  by  overwhelming  numhers, 
one  of  them  succeeded,  while  they  were  under  a  sev"-c  fire,  av 


Mm 


Ml* 


m 


^X-.^}"',  f-  .-i^.i'ST 


G30 


COOL   HEROISM. 


1 


short  range,  and  while  the  others,  with  their  rifles,  were 
keeping  the  Indians  at  bay,  in  digging  with  his  knife  and 
hands  a  slight  cover ;  after  this  had  been  secured,  they  placed 
themselves  within  it,  the  wounded  walking  v.'ith  brave  and 
painful  efforts,  and  Private  Smith,  though  he  had  received  a 
mortal  wound,  sitting  upright  within  the  trench,  to  conceal 
the  crippled  condition  of  their  party  from  the  Indians. 

From  early  morning  till  dark,  outnumbered  twenty-five  to 
one,  under  an  almost  constant  fire,  and  at  such  short  range 
that  they  sometimes  used  their  pistols,  retaining  the  last 
charge  to  prevent  capture  and  torture,  this  little  party  of  five 
defended  their  lives  and  the  person  of  their  dying  comrade, 
without  food,  and  their  only  drink  the  rajn-Avater  that  collected 
in  a  pool  mingled  Avith  their  own  blood.  There  is  no  doubt 
but  tliat  they  killed  more  than  double  their  number,  licsides 
those  that  were  wounded.  The  Indians  abandoned  the  attack 
on  the  12th  at  dark. 

The  exposure  and  distance  from  the  command  which  were 
necessary  incidents  of  their  duty,  were  such  that  for  thirty- 
six  hours  from  the  first  attack,  their  condition  could  not  be 
known,  and  not  till  midnight  of  the  13th  could  they  receive 
medical  attendance  and  food,  exposed  during  this  time  to  an 
incessant  cold  storm. 

Sergt.  Woodhall,  Private  Harrington,  and  Scout  Chapman 
were  seriously  wounded.  Private  Smith  died  of  his  wounds 
on  the  morning  of  the  13th.  Private  Rath  and  Scout  Dixon 
were  struck  but  not  disabled. 

The  simple  recital  of  their  deeds,  and  the  mention  of  the 
odds  against  which  they  fought,  how  the  wounded  defended 
the  dying,  and  the  dying  aided  the  wounded  by  exposure  to 
fi'esh  wounds  after  the  power  of  action  was  gone,  these  alone 
present  a  scene  of  cool  courage,  heroism  and  self-sacrifice, 
which  duty,  as  well  as  inclination,  prompts  us  to  recognize, 
but  which  we  cannot  fitly  honor. 

Very  respectfully  your  obedient  servant. 

Nelson  A.  Miles. 
Col.  and  Bvt.  Maj.  Oenl.  U.  S.  A.  Commanding. 


;  7*.Ty^"';',>'^-'J#*''^ 


Mr 


:'jf  v>7?,^l*^?r>, .'» 


■';-^  •>*V.'',.'''>»r-T"<i'  ;'"'■' vT,!' 


JA'^'T' 


SHOULDERDfG  A  WOUNDED  MAN. 


631 


t 


i 


Heroic  as  was  the  conduct  of  all,  that  of  Chapman 
deserves  most  special  honor,  for  he  received  his 
wound  while  performing  a  deed,  than  which  the  lof- 
tiest manhood  can  find  nothing  nobler.  The  first 
intimation  of  the  presence  of  Indians  was  a  volley 
which  wounded  every  man  of  the  party.  In  an 
instant  the  Indians  appeared  on  all  sides.  Dis- 
mounting and  abandoning  their  horses,  the  brave 
band  moved  together  for  a  hundred  yards  to  a  "  buf- 
falo Avallow,"  a  shallow,  natural  depression  in  the 
prairie.  Cliapman  and  Dixon,  being  but  slightly 
wounded,  Avorked  hard  and  fast  to  deepen  this  de- 
pression, and  as  soon  as  it  was  sufficiently  deep  to 
afford  some  cover  it  was  occupied  and  the  work  con- 
tinued from  within.  Smith  had  fallen  from  his  horse 
at  the  first  fire  and  was  supposed  to  be  dead.  I*^ow, 
when  the  excitement  of  prompt  and  vigoi-ous  action 
liad  somewhat  abated,  the  supposed  dead  body  Avas 
seen  slightly  to  more.  He  Avas  alive,  though  entirely 
disabled.  To  leave  him  there  Avas  to  ensure  his 
death,  for  the  Indians  Avere  firing  at  him.  But  how 
could  the  little  garrison  of  Avounded  men  assist  him? 
Turning  to  his  comrades  Chapman  said:  "  N^oav,  boys, 
keep  those  infernal  red-skins  off'  of  me  and  I  Avill  run 
doAvn  and  pick  up  Smith,  and  bring  him  back  before 
they  can  get  at  me."  Laying  doAvn  his  rifle,  he  sprang 
out  of  the  buffalo  AvalloAV,  ran  Avith  all  speed  to  Smith, 
seized  and  attempted  to  shoulder  hun.  "  Did  any  of 
you  ever  try  to  shoulder  a  AA'ounded  man?"  asked 
Chapman,  Avhen  telling  the  story.  "  Smith  was  not  a 
large  man,  one  hundred  and  sixty  or  seventy  pounds, 
but  I  declare  to  you  that  he  seemed  to  weigh  a  ton. 
Finally  I  laid  doAvn  and  got  his  chest  across  my  back, 
and  his  arms  around  my  neck  and  then  got  up  Avith 


■* 


.%<- 

w 


P.h^: 


"^^^ifi  ■r.-'*^iS'':'«'  ''""'y ^vf^'VTf'i f}'Tf» v^v'; '^..-^s  'T:*'"}":;-:-  'SJ-'^pf/'x; 


G32 


chapman's  deed  of  honor. 


'*'.' 
f 


him.  It  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  stagger  under 
him,  for  he  couldn't  hcljD  himself  a  bit.  By  the  time  I 
had  got  twenty  or  thirty  yards,  about  fifteen  Indians 
came  for  me  at  full  speed  of  their  ponies.  They  all 
loiew  me,  and  yelled  '  Amos !  Amos !  we  have  got  you 
now.'  I  pulled  my  pistol,  but  I  couldn't  hold  Smith  on 
my  back  with  one  hand,  so  I  let  him  drop.  The  boys 
in  the  bufftilo  wallow  opened  on  the  Indians  just  at 
the  right  time,  and  I  opened  on  them  with  my  pistol. 
There  was  a  tumbling  of  ponies,  and  a  scattering  of 
Indians,  and  in  a  minute  they  were  gone.  I  got 
Smith  up  again  and  made  the  best  possible  time,  but 
before  I  could  reach  the  wallow  another  gang  came 
for  me.  I  had  only  one  or  two  shots  in  my  pistol,  so 
I  didn't  stop  to  fight,  but  ran  for  it.  When  I  was 
in  about  twenty  yards  of  the  wallow,  a  little  old 
scoundrel  that  I  had  fed  fifty  times  rode  .almost  on  to 
me  and  fired.  I  fell  with  Smith  on  top  of  me,  but  as  I 
didn't  feel  pain,  I  thought  I  had  stepped  in  a  hole.  The 
Indians  couldn't  stay  around  there  a  minute,  the 
boys  kept  it  red-hot,  so  I  jumped  up,  picked  up 
Smith,  and  got  safe  in  the  wallow.  ^Amos,'  said 
Dixon,  '  you  are  badly  hurt.'  '  N^o,  I  am  not,'  said  I. 
^Why  look  at  your  leg,'  and  sure  enough,  the  leg 
was  shot  off  just  above  the  ankle  joint,  and  I  had 
been  walking  on  the  bone  dragging  the  foot  behind 
me,  and  in  the  excitement  I  never  knew  it,  nor  have 
I  ever  had  any  pain  in  my  leg  to  this  day." 

The  surgeon  at  Camp  Supply  amputated  Chap- 
man's leg  below  the  knee,  more  than  two  weeks  after 
the  receipt  of  the  wound,  and  in  a  week  thereafter 
had  to  take  away  his  clothing  to  keep  him  in  bed. 

Chapman  is  still  in  the  govermiient  employ,  as  use- 
ful and  as  ready  for  a  fight  as  any  two-legged  scout. 


:: 
'< 


3. 


•*3 


.-3 

■I, 

^   O 

=•3 
u  ft 
<  ^ 

K   0 


-P- 


'^  o 

=.  D 


jr  o 


y^ 


-3    S 

w  "^  2 


"    O 


=   ■/. 


mfei~"~-'>'  *>'  -"■»  ".J'-'AV.v«.^.- 


-j!Wti!nW!f^W'r^it^^WVir 


y,. 


'"'T  ■ 


•■TV--->':^-'  ,•'■■.• 


Forsyth's  fight. 


635 


One  of  the  most  remarkable  defences  ever  made 
against  overwhelming  forces  v  ;s  that  of  Major  Geo. 
A.  Forsyth,  United  States  Army,  in  command  of  a 
force  of  one  Lieutenant  of  Infantry,  an  Acting  Assist- 
ant Surgeon,  and  forty-eight  scouts  —  fifty-one  men 
all  told. 

He  was  scouting  against  Indians,  in  their  loved 
hunting-grounds,  the  Republican  Country.  On  the 
night  of  the  16th  September,  1868,  he  encamped  on 
the  Arickaree  Fork  of  the  Republican  River.  Fresh 
signs  of  Indians  in  great  force  had  been  seen,  but  the 
little  party  was  not  uneasy.  It  was  hunting  Indians; 
it  wanted  to  find  Indians;  and  it  found  Indians. 
Just  at  dawn  of  the  morning  of  September  17th, 
1868,  the  guard  gave  the  alarm,  "Indians!"  Every 
man  sprang  to  his  feet,  secured  his  arms  and  horse, 
then  turned  his  attention  to  a  little  band  of  six  In- 
dians, which  dashed  upon  the  camp,  shaking  bufialo 
robes,  firing  guns,  and  yelling  like  fiends,  in  the  hope 
of  stampeding  the  animals.  In  this  they  were  frus- 
trated, though  they  succeeded  in  getting  the  pack- 
mules  and  some  few  horses. 

Satisfied  that  this  was  but  the  prelude  to  a  more 
serious  attack,  Forsyth  ordered  his  men  to  saddle  up. 
This  had  scarcely  been  accomplished  when  over  the 
hills,  in  every  direction,  poured  swarms  upon  swarms 
of  Indians. 

The  Arickaree  Fork,  like  most  other  Plains  streams, 
is  a  river,  or  mere  brooklet,  depending  on  the  season 
of  the  year.  In  September  it  is  a  wide  sand-bed, 
through  which  meanders  a  thread  of  water  some  eight 
feet  wide  by  two  inches  deep.  Just  in  front  of 
Forsyth's  camp  was  an  island  a  hundred  yards  long 
by   twenty  or  thirty  wide,  on  which  was  a  small 


J 


*  f 


•vi 


»  ^-  ,  iiSk  t-l^'}\  - Xu)'.  ^*-..  J  •!  »^i^* . . 


'•"■'.■W'.F';^: 


;».T-A  .'  .A^---v-Vr?».;.,v  ,1  ■.■^.  ;\->t,T7«f  i-t-Ji-V-iy  ••■■»",. 


636 


ASSAULT   OF  KOMAN  NOSE. 


growth  of  bushes.  Realizing  at  once  the  advantage 
of  this  cover,  sHght  as  it  Avas,  and  the  disadvantage 
to  the  Indians  of  having  to  charge  over  tlie  sandy 
bed  of  the  stream,  Forsyth  ordered  his  men  to  take 
position  on  the  ishmd.  A  few  of  the  best  marksmen 
were  placed  under  cover  of  the  banks  of  the  stream, 
while  the  command  fastened  the  horses  to  the  bushes 
on  the  island.  These  preliminaries  were  hardly  com- 
pleted when  the  more  advanced  Indians,  throwing 
themselves  from  their  horses,  crawled  up  to  within 
easy  I'ange  and  oi)ened  a  fire  so  terrific  that  by  nine 
o'clock  m  the  morning  Forsyth  had  been  twice  se- 
verely wounded  (the  left  leg  being  shattered),  Dr. 
Movers  and  two  men  killed,  a  number  of  others 
wounded,  and  every  horse  had  been  shot  down. 

But  the  gallant  whites  had  not  been  idle.  Many  a 
dead  and  wounded  Indian  had  been  carried  to  the 
rear  under  their  accurate  and  continuous  fire.  Dis- 
abled as  he  was,  Forsyth  did  not  flinch  from  the 
command.  Lying,  propped  on  his  elbow,  he  saw 
everj'thing,  superintended  everything.  Under  his 
direction,  while  the  best  shots  were  keeping  the  In- 
dians at  bay,  the  other  men  were  digging  for  life, 
making  rifle-pits,  using  the  bodies  of  the  dead  horses 
as  parapet.  By  nine  o'clock  the  little  party  was  in 
as  good  posture  for  defence  as  it  could  hope  to  be. 

The  Indians  had  made  a  mistake  in  not  charging 
at  the  first  attack.  They  now  realized  it  and  made 
pi-eparation  for  an  assault.  Under  the  command  of 
the  Chief  Roman  Nose,  a  gallant  band  of  about  three 
hundred  vrarriors,  superbly  mounted,  formed  just 
beyond  rifle-shot  below  the  island.  A  heavy  skirmish 
line  pressed  closer  and  closer,  with  a  fire  so  searching 
and  accurate  that  the  beleaguered  garrison  could  not 


•i 


f4'-''^<"\t,  *:^*^  '"f^"-'7r''?r»,"*^;  .-v 


■.'■"in('«.  ->"^*- 


THE   INDIANS   ARE   DEFEATED. 


C37 


expose  a  head  or  arm  to  return  it.  Ilealiziiig  what. 
was  coming,  Forsyth  put  everything  in  readiness. 
The  guns  of  the  dead  and  wounded  were  loaded  and 
placed  near  the  best  shots  on  the  threatened  side. 

"When  the  fire  of  the  Indian  skirmishers  had  com- 
pletely silenced  the  fire  of  the  Avhites,  the  signal  was 
given,  and  Roman  Nose  thundered  on  to  the  be- 
leaguered island.  But  when  his  gallant  command  had 
gotten  so  near  that  the  Indian  footmen  could  no 
longer  fire  for  fear  of  hitting  their  friends,  the  line 
of  parapet  bristled  with  steady  defenders.  "  Now !  " 
shouted  Forsyth,  and  the  abandoned  parapet  blazed 
with  death.  On  dash  the  gallant  Indians.  Roman 
Kose  goes  down  in  the  sand  of  the  river;  the  Medi- 
cine Chief  falls  at  the  very  foot  of  the  entrenchments; 
but  nothing  can  stand  the  cool  and  accurate  fire  of 
the  whit«'S.  The  Indians  falter;  a  ringing  cheer,  and 
another  well-directed  volley  from  the  whites;  they 
break  and  scatter  beyond  range. 

The  victory  is  won,  but  at  terrible  cost.  Of  the 
whole  force  of  fifty-one  men,  twenty-three  are  dead 
or  wounded. 

Disheartened,  but  not  despairing,  the  Indians  now 
determine  to  destroy  by  siege  the  little  band  of  whites 
that  they  are  unable  to  beat  by  assault. 

Their  skirmishers  surround  the  entrenchments  and 
keep  up  a  continuous  and  well-directed  fire.  This  is 
continued  all  day,  but  at  night  they  draw  off.  This 
is  Forsyth's  golden  opportunity.  He  seizes  it,  and  in 
the  darkness  dispatches  tw^o  ti-usty  scouts  to  the 
nearest  military  post  fo   assistance. 

All  the  next  day  the  same  fighting  with  dismounted 
warriors.  The  next  night  two  more  men  sent  with 
despatches  are  driven  back  by  the  Indians.    On  the 


.f>    -: 


summ 


638 


A  IIOnillBLE   SITUATION'. 


third  day  it  was  evident  that  the  Indians  had  become 
sick  of  the  contest.  Tlie  main  body  withdrew,  but 
left  a  sufficient  number  to  beleaguer  and  harass  the 
suffering  garrison. 

That  night  Forsyth  sent  off  two  more  scouts,  who, 
as  they  did  not  return,  were  supposed  to  have  gotten 
through  the  Indian  lines. 

On  the  20th  the  uninjured  men  of  the  command 
were  so  far  relieved  of  the  constant  apprehension  of 
attack  as  to  be  able  to  give  attention  to  the  wounded, 
for  up  to  this  time  no  wound  had  been  dressed. 

But  now  came  a  worse  enemy  than  Indians.  In  its 
eagerness  to  "do  something,"  the  command  had  been 
out  so  long  that  though  husbanding  its  rations  with 
the  greatest  care  it  had  on  the  morning  of  the  attack 
scarcely  a  mouthful  to  eat.  During  the  first  few  days 
of  siege  it  had  had  abundance  of  horse  and  mule 
meat,  but  this  had  become  now  so  putrefied  that  no 
stomach  could  stand  it;  and  the  "horse  and  mule 
meat  Ij'ing  around  loose,"  as  Forsyth  expressed  it 
when  the  food  consideration  was  presented  to  him, 
became  in  the  end,  by  its  intolerable  stench,  one  of 
the  serious  discomforts  of  this  remarkable  experience. 

On  the  25th,  after  nine  days  of  fighting,  suffering, 
starvation  and  stench,  the  most  welcome  reinforce- 
ments came,  and  this  little  party  was  relieved  from  a 
situation  the  horrors  of  which  no  man  can  realize. 

Lieutenant  Beecher,  Dr.  Movers,  and  six  men  were 
killed.  Eight  others  were  disabled  for  life,  but  the 
other  wounded  twelve  completely  recovered. 

In  this  fight  the  Indians  had  nine  hundred  warriors, 
the  whites  fifty-one  all  told.  The  Indians  admit  a 
loss  of  seventy-five  killed  and  wounded.  The  whites 
lost  eight  killed  and  twenty  wounded. 


CHAPTER  LI. 


. 


THE  PRESEXT  AXD  FUTURE  OF  THE  INDIANS— MY 
IDEA  OF  WHAT  SHOULD  BE  DONE. 

-Wards  of  tho  Nation "— Charity  Begins  at  Home  — Odlcial  Tyranny 
—  Hidden  Crimes  A<,'ainst  tlio  Indians  — Tiioir  Need  of  Help  and 
Sympathy  — Tiuur  Future  — Contrasts  Between  Ti  eir  Condition  a 
Few  Years  Ago  and  Now  — On  the  Verge  of  Starvation  — Wliy  They 
Do  Not  Progress  — The  Indian  King  — A  Powerful  Organization  — 
How  the  Indian  is  Uoi)hed,  Swindled  and  Imposed  Upor.  — Tiie  Source 
of  all  Indian  Ills  —Neglect  by  the  Covernment— Crim.nal  Pvosponsi- 
bility  —  My  Idea  of  Wliat  Sliould  Be  Done  — The  Tide  of  Immigi-a- 
tion  —  Only  a  Question  of  Time. 


N"  the  foregoing  pages  I  have  endeavored 
to  give  a  clear,  detailed,  and  acrurate 
account  of  the  life,  habits,  and  mode  of 
thought  of  the  Plains  Indians  of  the 
pi'esent  day. 

In  concluding,  while  I  abstain  from 
any  discussion  of  the  "Indian  Ques- 
tion," as  unsuitable  to  a  work  of  this 
kind,  I  cannot  satisfactorily  complete  my 
labors  without  giving  a  synopsis  of  the  i)resent 
political  situation  of  the  Indians,  and  a  slighi-  sketch 
of  my  idea  of  what  should  be  done  towards  the 
amelioration  of  the  condition  of  this  unhappy  race. 

It  is  difficult  to  approach  the  subject  dispassion- 
ately, for  next  to  the  crime  of  slavery  the  foulest  blot 
on  the  escutcheon  of  the  Government  of  the  United 


639 


^r;-'^- 


:<^;^s 


640 


AMERIC^v:s"   MAXIIOOD. 


^l 


fe 


States  is  its  treatment  of  the  so-called  "  "Wards  of 
the  Xatioii." 

Among  the  many  thonsands  who,  I  hope,  ■will  read 
these  pages,  there  are  very  few  who  wish  anything 
but  good  to  the  Indian  race.  American  peojjle  as  a 
rnle  are  brave,  consequently  their  instincts  are  habit- 
ually on  the  side  of  honoi*  and  mercy.  Almost  every 
one  has  manhood  enough  to  urge  him  to  assist  the 
weak  and  helpless. 

A  terrible  epidemic,  or  disastrous  conflagration, 
scores  a  joortion  of  our  country,  the  cry  of  suflering 
opens  the  hearts  and  purses  of  those  in  more  favored 
localities,  and  nothing  is  left  undone  that  can  be 
done  to  alleviate  the  distress.  A  report  is  spread 
that  Ireland  is  on  the  point  of  starvation,  and  Amei'i- 
can  contributions  pour  in  with  a  munificence  so 
lavish  as  to  shame  the  government  most  interested. 
The  starving  of  even  far-away  India  and  China  find 
aid  and  comfoi-t  from  our  jicople,  whose  charitable 
instincts  are  wide  as  the  earth  itself.  It  is  only  at 
our  own  doors,  and  towards  a  race  whose  care  should 
be  our  peculiar  duty,  that  we  suddenly  become  in- 
comprehensibly deaf  to  the  appeals  of  those  slowly 
but  surely  dying  of  absolute  starvation. 

The  struggles  of  any  foreign  peoples  to  free  them- 
selves from  the  chains  of  tyranny  find  in  us  a  most 
hearty  sympathy.  Yet  we  permit  a  whole  race,  In 
our  own  country,  to  groan  and  suffer  under  an  official 
tyranny  as  remorseless  as  rny  on  earth. 

Some  of  the  most  charitable  men  I  have  ever 
known  were  abominable  spendthrifts,  by  no  possi- 
bility ever  paying  a  just  debt  Charity  to  them  was 
an  active  passion,  payment  a  disagreeable  duty.  It 
would  seem  that  this  in  an  eminent  decree  is  our 


'1  *•  Twr- 


.t 'Vff'f"-^ 


I  -     '  r*.iri  *T>r, 


<^\ 


INDIAN   CITIZENSHIP. 


641 


characteristic  as  a  nation.  So  long  as  charitj^  and 
sympathy  are  vohmtary  they  are  sweet  virtues  to  be 
practised;  when  they  become  obligatory  they  are 
disagreeable  duties,  to  be  avoided  if  possible. 

The  ludian  has  no  literature,  no  means  of  access 
to  the  great  heart  of  the  American  people.  The  per- 
sons in  whose  hands  he  finds  himself  are  interested 
in  having  things  remain  exactly  as  they  are,  and  will 
not  permit  his  sufferings  to  be  known. 

The  crimes  against  the  negro  were  open  to,  and 
seen  by,  all  the  world.  The  crimes  against  the  Indian 
are  unknown  because  purposely  hidden,  and  because 
of  his  isolation.  He  suffers  in  secret,  and  therefore 
without  sympathy. 

Many  eloquent  writers  have  depicted  the  wrongs 
and  the  sufferings  of  the  Indian;  but  I  know  of  no 
single  one  who  has  not,  however  miAvittingly,  written 
in  the  interests  of  the  Indian  Ring;   for  the  most 


o> 


honest  and  conscientious  among  them  have  been 
unable  to  see  for  the  Indian  any  future  not  bounded 
by  the  status  qno. 

There  is  no  future  for  the  Indian  as  Indian;  but  I 
can  see  for  him  long  vistas  of  honor  and  usefulness 
when  he  shall  have  become  a  citizen  of  the  United 
States*  If  we  had  said  to  the  Irish  or  to  the  Germans, 
"You  may  live  among  us,  but  you  shall  never  be 
citizens,"  would  we  have  been  as  great  a  nation 
to-day? 

Since  the  inception  of  our  Government  we  have 
said  this  to  the  Indian ;  and  yet  we  wonder  why  he 
cannot  be  a  citizen.  At  this  moment  the  Chcrokees, 
Chickasaws,  Choctaws,  the  remnants  of  the  Six  :N'a- 
tions  in  :N'cw  York,  the  Pueblos  of  Xew  Mexico  and 
Arizona,  are  as  fit  for  citizenship  as  the  average  ot 


"mn- 


M 


mm 


] 


I 


642 


CONTRASTS. 


w. 


...V- 


M'. 


A.* 


white  emigrants  to  our  soil.  TVe  tell  them  flatly, 
"You  are  Indians,  —  an  inferior  race.  You  have 
not  sense  or  discretion  enough  to  hold  property  or 
take  care  of  yourselves.  You  are  on  a  par  with 
prisoners  and  lunatics,  we  will  take  care  of  you." 
And  we  do  it;  but,  gracious  Heaven!  what  care  I 

But  a  few  years  ago  the  Indian  was  wild,  free  and 
independent.  l!^ow  he  is  a  i)risoner  of  war,  restrained 
of  his  liberty  and  confined  on  circumscribed  areas. 
But  a  few  years  ago  he  was  rich  in  ponies  and  prop- 
erty; now  he  is  so  poor  that  "no  man  will  do  him 
revei'ence."  But  a  few  years  ago  the  Plains  fur- 
nished him  amjDle  supply  of  food;  now  he  is  con- 
stantly on  the  verge  of  starvation.  But  a  few  years 
ago  war  and  the  chase  gave  ample  vent  to  all  his 
ambition  and  energy;  now  he  is  expected  to  be  con- 
tent and  satisfied  with  an  empty  stomach  and  nothing 
to  do.  But  a  few  years  ago  tribal  government  was 
so  strong  as  to  deter  them  from  the  commission  of 
outrages  among  themselves.  We  have  broken  down 
the  tribal  authority  and  substituted  nothing  in  its 
place.  The  Indian  is  absolutely  without  law,  either 
human  or  divine.  The  well-disj^osed  are  at  the 
mercy  of  the  evil-disposed;  yet  we  wonder  that  the 
Indian  does  not  progress. 

By  refusing  to  give  him  land  and  a  home  in  sev- 
eralty, we  carefull^'^  prevent  the  development  of  any 
ambitious  longings  for  individual  wealth  and  inde- 
pendence; and  by  withholding  any  reward  from 
labor  we  as  carefully  prevent  the  formation  of  any 
habits  of  industry ;  yet  we  wonder  why  the  Indian  is 
not  ambitious  and  industrious. 

Were  it  possible  to  induce  the  American  people  to 
act  towards  Indians  as  they  do  towards  persons  of 


I 


'■:'' 


i 

r 

\ 

I.' 

I' 

h 


v^^^y  *,  *^ 


'•«'.\"^-  '^V '"•'%' •>'5V?;: '?;7^Kfl.':;-;75-'^"'.>i^v-7'- 


fe- 


HYPOCRITICAL   FRIENDS. 


643 


other  nationalities,  I  have  said  enough;  but  such 
action  is  not  possible  under  the  present  management. 

Before  the  war  of  the  Rebellion,  the  "Indian 
trade*' — by  wh'eh  must  be  understood  the  five  to 
eight  millions  apjDropriated  by  Congress,  and  the 
IDurchase  and  sale  of  commodities  between  white  and 
red  men  —  was  estimated  by  competent  persons  at 
not  less  than  forty  millions  a  year.  Since  the  de- 
struction of  the  buffalo,  and  the  confinement  of  In- 
dians on  limited  reservations,  this  gross  amount  has 
been  reduced  probably  one-half. 

In  Chapter  XX.  I  have  detailed  how  this  trade  is 
conducted,  and  it  will  be  readily  seen  that  poor  as 
the  Indian  now  is,  he  yet  affords  good  picking  to 
those  whose  business  it  is  to  coin  him  into  money. 
These  men  are  a  "  power  in  the  land,"  not  only  by 
means  of  the  money  squeezed  from  the  Indian,  but, 
"  clothing  themselves  with  hypocrisy,  as  with  a  gai*- 
ment,"  and  jiretendhig  to  be  the  Indian's  best  friends, 
they  gain  the  ears  and  the  assistance  of  those  true 
and  pure  humanitarians  who,  being  ignorant  of  tne 
facts,  believe  whatever  these  deceivers  tell  them. 

The  prolific  source  of  all  Indian  ills  is  that  most 
tragic  of  national  fiu-ces  called  the  "  Treaty  System." 
By  it  we  have  taken  advantage  of  the  greed  or 
ignorance  of  chiefs,  to  swindle  the  Indians  out  of 
their  lands.  Every  so-called  treaty  has  been  op- 
posed, always  by  a  minority,  and  sometimes  by  a 
great  majority  of  the  tribe  interested,  and  these 
opponents  are  always  dissatisfied  and  disposed  to  be 
hostile.  Sometimes,  as  in  several  cases  on  record, 
the  chiefs  themselves  have  refused  to  be  swindled. 
The  Government  has  not  hesitated,  but  deposing  the 
refractory  chiefs,  has  set  up  others,  its  own  creatures, 


J- 
■  1^ 


f'.4 


^  i 


mm 


Wi 


'J»<.:";  »:■■  ■■,'■■"  "• 


:|- 


■-{'■i-yy  jv?;;'-»!t.*''''-j^;'<'*"  'y:^[i'^\'\-^^-\"-y- ■'■i''^''.';\^^"';.;.'\''  '-;-;-':"'»4'-''4'i^'"^'i*v'''#f ''''-^r.' 


V   il 


644 


THE   TREATY   SYSTEM. 


and  concluded  the  melancholy  farce,  by  entering  into 
a  solemn  treaty,  to  which  the  United  States  were 
actually  party  of  both  parts. 

We  profess  to  regard  the  Indian  tribes  as  "  interior 
dei)endent  nations."  The  ''Treaty  System"  so  fnr 
recognizes  their  independence  as  to  make  it  impos- 
sible for  us  to  enact  laws  for  their  control  and  bene- 
fit, or  to  give  them  any  standard  by  which  to  regulate 
their  conduct.  By  holding  intercourse  with  them 
only  as  "bodies  politic"  we  keep  all  on  the  same 
plane;  there  is  no  recognition  of  individual  worth 
or  advancement;  no  prospect  of  citizenship  is  ever 
held  out,  and  there  is  no  hope  for  any  man  ever  to  bo 
more  or  better  than  the  mere  conventional  Indian. 

But  the  crowning  feature  of  this  "system  "  is,  that 
the  Government  at  this  moment  has  formal  "  treaty  " 
arrangements  with  hundreds  of  petty  tribes,  all  of 
which  are  now  held  on  reservations,  actually  pris- 
oners of  war.  The  recognition  of  this  fact  is  al)so- 
lutely  necessary;  the  very  first  step  towards  the 
improvement  of  the  condition  of  the  Indian.  In 
violation  of  treaties,  or  by  virtue  of  treaties  procured 
by  fraud,  the  Indian  is  confined  to  reservations.  In 
violation  of  law,  the  game  on  which  he  depended  for 
food  has  been  destroyed  by  white  men. 

The  United  States  having  made  prisoners  of  the 
Indians,  and  having  by  negligence  permitted  them  to 
be  deprived  of  the  means  of  self-support,  is  in  honor 
bound  to  see  that  they  do  not  suffer.  Is  this  ol)liga- 
tion  of  honor  fulfilled?  Far  from  it!  On  the  con- 
trary, we  leave  our  helpless  prisoners  to  starve,  and 
shoot  without  mercy  the  reckless  few  who,  goaded 
to  desperation  by  their  sufferings,  dare  to  cross  the 
dead  line  of  the  reservation. 


IP 


1 


1^^ 


wn 

-■r** 


PRISOXEKS  OF  WAE. 


G45 


In  this  horrid  crime  every  voter  of  the  United 
States  is  either  actively  or  passively  implicated,  for 
it  has  its  root  in  the  legislative  branch  of  the  Gov- 
ernment. The  appropriations  for  the  support  of  the 
Indians  are  entirely  inadequate,  the  most  favored 
tribes  receiving  no  more  than  about  eight  cents  a 
day  for  the  support  of  each  individual. 

All  this  is  criminal.  It  is  time  that  all  persons 
responsible  for  the  care  and  condition  of  the  Indians 
should  recognize  that  they  are  prisoners  of  war,  and 
that  justice  and  humanity  alike  require  that  they  be 
supported  until  such  time  as  they  can  learn  to  sup- 
port themselves  in  their  new  mode  of  life. 

To  advance,  the  Indian  like  other  men  must  have 
an  object  in  life,  —  an  incentive  to  effort.  Many  of 
the  so-called  wild  tribes  are  willing  to  labor,  and  do 
labor  right  manfully  for  the  one  crop,  which  is  all 
they  can  rely  on  under  the  present  management. 
Giv^e  each  a  farm  of  his  own,  and  many  of  them 
will  soon  be  independent  of  government  support. 

Thi'ough  the  fault  of  a  system  of  government 
which  pays  little  attention  to  the  rights  of  those  who 
have  no  votes,  no  representation,  and  no  redress  in 
the  courts,  the  control  and  management  of  the  In- 
dians have  been  so  far  an  utter  failure  —  debasing, 
pauperizing,  and  exterminating  them. 

The  Indian  is  in  a  state  of  progression  common  at 
some  time  in  their  history  to  all  nations  and  peoples. 
The  eiforts  made  for  his  advance  in  civilizr.tion  have 
BO  far  failed  of  beneficial  result,  not  from  exceptional 
stupidity  or  barbarism,  or  other  peculiarity  of  char- 
acter or  habit  of  the  subject,  but  because  men  of 
power  and  influence  find  there  is  more  money  to  be 
made  of  him  by  leaving  him  as  he  is. 

40 


■  i 


!Vt>' 


.  ,  .',V-^,r'",'7, '-V.       '-.'BggggpBBWBIi 


646 


CHANGES  RECOMMENDED. 


These  are  a  few,  a  very  few,  of  the  wrongs  and 
iniquities  practised  upon  the  Indians  by  those  who 
profess  to  be  his  friends;  and  which,  if  continued, 
will  in  a  few  years  lead  to  his  utter  extermination. 

There  is  but  one  hope  for  him.  "  Treaty  systems  " 
and  tribal  relations  must  be  broken  up,  and  the 
Indians  individually  absorbed  in  the  great  family  of 
Americar  citizens.  This  must  necessarily  be  a 
gradual  process,  and  in  the  mean  time  some  plan 
must  be  adopted  which,  while  protecting  him  from 
the  harpies  who  now  feed  upon  him,  shall  soonest  fit 
him  for  the  honors  and  responsibilities  of  an  Ameri- 
can citizen.  I  give  the  outline  of  the  plan  which  I 
believe  best  suited  to  that  end. 

1.  Turn  the  Indians  over  to  the  War  Department. 

2.  Abolish  the  Indian  Bureau  as  now  constituted, 
with  all  the  laws  and  parts  of  laws  establishing  it 
and  controlling  or  directing  its  operations.  Replace 
the  Commissioner  of  Indian  Aft'airs,  the  Superin- 
tendents, Inspectors,  Agents,  &c.,  by  detailed  army 
officers,  and  let  the  Indians  be  supplied  by  and 
through  the  Quartermasters  and  Commissary  De- 
partment s  of  the  army. 

3.  Abrogate  all  existing  treaties. 

4.  Abolish  all  trade  and  intercourse  laws  now  on 
the  Statute  Book.  Give  the  Indians  the  same  rights 
in  trade  as  are  enjoyed  by  citizens  of  the  United 
States  (arms  and  liquors  excepted),  until  the  Indians 
shall  have  become  citizens. 

5.  Enact  laws  for  the  control  and  guidance  of  the 
Indians  until  they  have  as  citizens  come  under  the 
operation  of  the  common  law. 

6.  Make  Commanding  Officers  of  military  posts  in 
Indian  territory  or  on  reservations  ex-officio  Super- 


•,«7:F 


TRANSFER  OF   INDIAN   BUREAU. 


647 


Intendents  of  Indian  Affairs,  and  give  them  magis- 
terial authority  over  the  Indians  so  long  as  they  live 
in  unorganized  territory. 

7.  Give  the  Indians  farms  in  severalty,  not,  how- 
ever, requiring  each  to  live  on  his  ftirni,  but  encour- 
aging them  to  form  permanent  settlements  and 
villages. 

8.  All  the  land  of  the  reservations  not  allotted  to 
Indians  to  be  bought  of  them  by  the  Government 
and  thrown  open  to  settlement  by  whites. 

9.  Give  the  Indian  the  ballot,  and  all  the  rights 
and  duties  of  citizenship,  as  soon  as  the  country  in 
which  he  resides  shall  have  been  organized  into  a 
county. 

10.  Feed  the  wild  Indian.  See  that  he  has  suf- 
ficient food,  even  to  the  exclusion,  if  necessary,  of  all 
other  supplies. 

Whether  or  not  the  above  propositions  will  effect 
the  end  designed  will  depend  entirely  on  the  mode 
of  carrying  out  the  first  and  second. 

For  some  years  there  has  been  a  great  deal  of 
flippant  talk,  both  in  and  out  of  Congress,  about  the 
transfer  of  the  Indian  Bureau  to  the  War  Dej)art- 
ment,  the  enemies  of  the  measure  asserting  positively 
that  the  passage  of  such  a  bill  would  be  the  utter 
destruction  of  the  Indians;  its  friends  with  equal 
positiveness  asserting  that  it  would  civilize  the  In- 
dian, cause  wars  to  cease,  and  redound  in  every  way 
to  the  advantage  of  the  country  and  the  Indian. 

The  transfer  to  the  War  Department  of  the  Indian 
Bureau  as  now  constituted,  would  effect  nothing 
except  to  saddle  the  War  Department  with  the  onus 
of  its  actions.  The  Indian  Bureau  is  the  means  by 
and  through  which  are   perpetrated   most  of  the 


w 


af'.'. 


i.      ,: 

r" 


:.t^- 


648 


RADICAL  CHANGE  NECESSARY. 


wrongs  and  outrages  I  have  described. 


Its  defects 


have  "grown 


and  wrongs  arc  inherent  to  itself, 
with  its  growth  and  strengthened  with  its  strength." 
By  means  of  its  machinery  a  comparatively  few  men 
swindle,  pauperize,  and  degrade  the  Indian,  and  keep 
the  country  plunged  in  endless  war. 

To  be  effective  for  good,  the  change  in  the  system 
of  management  of  the  Indians  must  be  radical ;  com- 
plete not  only  in  machinery,  but  in  men.  AVith  such 
a  change,  my  plan  is  entirely  feasible,  and  will,  I 
believe,  result  in  cessation  of  Indian  wars,  in  economy 
to  the  country,  and,  above  all,  in  converting  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  savages  into  good  citi- 
zens,—  in  converting  an  element  of  weakness  and 
enormous  expense  into  an  element  of  pride  and 
power. 

The  real  friends  of  the  Indian  are  injuring  his 
cause  by  demanding  too  much.     They  insist  that  the 


treaties  shall  be  regarded  as 


binding 


for  all   time. 


There  is  no  power  in  this  Government  which  can 
much  longer  delay  the  settlement  by  whites  of  the 
Indian  territory,  and  it  is  a  mere  question  of  time 
when  all  the  reservations  will  be  overrun.  The  Gov- 
ernment tried  faithfully  to  keep  the  whites  out  of  the 
Black  Hills,  which  was  an  Indian  reservation.  It 
failed  signally. 

The  Indians  now  hold  under  treaty  stipulations 
over  forty-one  millions  of  acres  of  land.  It  cannot 
be  expected  that  a  population  which  united  would 
make  a  city  less  populous  than  Cincinnati,  shall  be 
for  all  time  maintained  in  possession  of  lands  suffi- 
cient for  the  support  of  the  whole  population,  white 
and  red,  of  the  United  States. 

Against  the  resistless  tide  of  immigration  the  In- 


•*.■■;■ 


" 


*■ 


.•r.^'-V 


THE   INDIAN   SITUATION. 


649 


jr.. 

* 


.{P 


r 


dian  has  absolutely  no  chance.  His  only  hope  is  in 
setting  with  the  tide,  and  this  he  can  only  do  as  an 
American  citizen. 

As  a  people  we  are  disposed  to  place  little  value 
on  human  life,  unless  that  life  happens  to  be  taken  by 
Indians. 

Let  us  take  into  consideration: 

That  the  Indians  are  savages ; 

That  while  abolishing  tribal  authority  we  substi- 
tute nothing  therefor,  leaving  the  Indians  absolutely 
without  rule  of  life  or  conduct; 

That  they  are  now  amenable  to  no  law,  civil,  mili- 
tary, or  divine,  except  the  law  of  retaliation ; 

That  they  are  prisoners  of  war,  confined  against 
their  will  on  restricted  areas; 

That  the  civilized  world  makes  it  not  only  the 
right,  but  the  duty  of  the  prisoner  of  war  to  escape, 
if  he  can; 

That  in  treating  them,  and  with  them,  only  as 
tribes,  we  ignore  individual  obligation;  and  by  blam- 
ing all  alike  we  take  away  from  the  well-disposed  all 
incentive  to  good  behavior; 

That  we  endeavor  to  repress  the  ardor  and  aspira- 
tions of  a  naturally  ambitious  race  by  keeping  them 
penned  up  on  reservations,  disarmed,  and  with  noth- 
ing to  do,  when  by  giving  them  occupation  we  might 
divert  this  ambition  into  other  and  useful  channels; 

And  last  and  most  important: 

That  we  keep  them  always  hungry;  sometimes  on 
the  verge  of  starvation; 

And  it  must  be  conceded  that  the  Indian  behaves 
much  better  than  we  have  any  right  to  expect. 

The  actual  number  of  murders  and  outrages  com- 
mitted by  Indians  on  citizens  is  so  small  as  would 


%m 


650 


INDIAN  VS.  WHITE  OUTRAGES. 


scarcely  be  thought  of  if  perpetrated  by  whites.  In 
the  suiiiiner  of  18G7,  white  men  in  Julesburg  robbed 
and  murdered  more  citizens  than  all  the  Indians  have 
robbed  and  murdered  during  any  one  of  ten  years 
past.  In  1873,  Dodge  City  emulated  the  fame  and 
shame  of  Julesburg;  and  at  the  present  moment 
there  is  scarcely  a  busy  town  along  the  lines  of  rail- 
road now  pushing  through  Arizona,  New  Mexico, 
and  Texas,  that  does  not  have  its  almost  daily  mur- 
der. I  may  even  come  nearer  to  civilization;  for  I 
believe  the  records  will  show  that  more  outrages  on 
life  and  property  have  been  perpetrated  during  the 
last  year  by  whites  in  the  two  States  of  Kentucky 
and  Missouri  than  in  the  same  time  by  all  the  Indians 
in  all  the  length  and  breadth  of  our  extended  frontier. 

I  sjjcak  of  outrages  against  citizens.  The  killing 
of  soldiers  in  battle  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  murder 
or  outrage.  It  is  simply  the  necessar^  adjunct  to  our 
pernicious  system  of  Indian  management. 

The  newspapers  of  the  land  are  much  to  blame  for 
the  exaggerated  feeling  against  Indians.  The  local 
paper  of  a  frontier  town  will  carefully  avoid  any 
mention  of  the  daily  or  nightly  killings  by  its  inhabi- 
tants; but  let  a  frontiersman  be  killed,  or  even  scared 
by  Indians,  and  column  after  column  is  devoted  to 
the  minutest,  and  most  generally  imaginary,*dctails. 
This  can  readily  be  accounted  for,  each  little  frontier 
•town  desiring  the  presence  of  troops,  not  for  protec- 
tion, but  for  the  money  they  spend. 

That  the  Eastern  papers  should  so  readily  take  up 
this  cry,  giving  a  line  to  a  murder  by  a  Kentucky 
gentleman,  a  column  to  a  murder  by  an  Indian,  can 
only  be  accounted  for  by  the  desu*e  for  sensation. 


I 


i 
I' 


<i'rr.'  ■■■'" 


l'ejtvoi. 


651 


i^l 


L'ENVOI. 

,S  regards  the  Indian,  the  citizens  of 
the  United  States  may  be  divided  into 
^^^?1WW    ^'^^"'  classes.     First. — Earnest,  honor- 
y*  $S^I«v^  able,  thinking  men,  humanitarians  bv 
instinct,  education,  and  surroundings. 
Second.  — Professional  humanitarians, 
who  feed  upon  and  make  a  trade  of 
the  Indians.    Third. — Exterminators. 
FourtJi.  —  The  great  mass  of  the  peo- 
ple, knowing  little  of,  and  caring  less  for,  the  Indian, 
I  am  perfectly  aware  that  in  the  foregoing  pages 
I  have  affronted  the  first  throe  classes. 

Basing  themselves  on  justice  and  honor,  some  of 
the  very  best  and  purest  of  our  citizens  fight  for  the 
Indian  a  Quixotic  battle  Avith  the  windmills.  Misled 
by  Cooper,  Catlin,  and  other  enthusiastic  authors,  and 
by  the  fictional  colorings  of  professional  humanitari- 
ans, they  have  set  up  an  ideal  Indian,  clothed  with 
graces  and  virtues,  which  a  moment  of  calm  and  un- 
prejudiced reflection  must  show  to  be  impossible  in  a 
savage.  Forgetting  the  fact  that  civilization  claims  by 
right  of  discovery  or  possession,  all  lands  occupied 
by  barbarians,  they  demand  that  our  intercourse  with 
Indians  shall  be  regulated  by  treaties,  and  that  these 
treaties  shall  be  binding  on  all,  and  for  all  time.    This 


052 


LENVOI. 


fc'-. 


is  a  generous  instinct  worthy  of  honorable  men,  but 
is  just  as  impracticable  as  if  those  men  should  deter- 
mine that  there  shall  be  no  more  poor  among  whites. 
Civilization  must  and  will  destroy  the  savage  and 
possess  his  lands,  unless  that  savage  is  given  an 
exactly  equal  right  of  possession,  and  this  can  only 
be  done  by  making  hirn  a  citizen. 

To  the  professional  humanitarians  I  have  nothing 
to  say,  except  to  assure  them  o£  my  unalterable  hos- 
tility, and  determination  to  use  every  faculty  with 
which  I  am  endowed  to  wrench  the  Indian  from  their 
sordid  grasp. 

To  the  thinking  men  of  the  third  class  I  would 
say,  ''Hold!  consider  that  the  Indian  is  a  fellow- 
creature;  that  his  savage  condition  is  his  misfortune, 
and  greatly  o«r  fault:  that  as  a  citizen  he  can  be  made 
a  valuable  acquisition  to  the  country.  Look  at  the 
numbers  of  intellectnr.]^  cultivated  Indians  now  in  the 
Territory;  and  recol^;jct  that  but  for  the  indomitable 
courage,  perseverance,  and  brains  of  Juarez,  a  full- 
blood  Indian,  our  sister  republic  would  now  be  groan- 
ing under  the  tyranny  of  a  foreign  Emperor." 

Scarce  a  score  of  years  have  passed  since  even  the 
most  honorable,  earnest  philanthropists  of  the  coun- 
try were  torn  with  doubts  as  to  the  effect  of  the  sud- 
den elevation  of  three  millions  of  slaves  to  the  rights 
and  duties  of  citizenship. 

Against  the  most  obstinate  prejudice;  in  spite  of 
difficulties  such  as  few  peoples  have  had  to  encormter, 
the  JSTcgro  race  has  demonstrated  the  justice  of  eman- 
cipation by  a  thirst  for  knowledge  and  a  capacity  for 
instruction,  which  put  to  shame  the  present  lower 
class  of  southern  whites. 


>¥' 


V 


.fi  III 


■■■^A''.' 


l'envoi. 


653 


Enlightened  or  savage  human  nature  is  much  the 
same.  Men  rise  to  meet  emergencies.  That  the  j^oor 
and  ignorant  of  ahnost  every  land  and  clime  swell 
the  number  of  our  valuable  citizens,  should  encourage 
us  to  extend  the  experiment  of  freedom  and  citizen- 
ship. 

But  a  few  years  ago,  "Abolitionist  "  was  a  term  of 
l)itter  reproach.  Now,  every  nian  in  the  country 
whose  opinions  are  worth  notice  is  an  "Abolitionist." 

"A  little  leaven  lenveneth  the  whole  lump." 

The   only   hope  for  the  Indian  is    in  the  interest 
and  compassion   of  a  few  true  men,  who,  like  the 
handful  of  "Abolitionists"  of  thirty  years  ago,  have 
pluck  and  strength  to  fight,  against  any  odds,  an  appa- 
rently ever  losing  battle.   Tiiese  in  turn  must  rely  upon 
the  great,  brave,  honest  human  heart  of  the  Amer- 
ican people.     To  that  I  and  they  must  appeal !  to  the 
press;   to  the  pulpit;  to  every  voter  in  the  land;  to 
every  lover  of  humanity.    Arouse  to  this  grand  work. 
N^o  slave  now   treads  the   soil  of  this   noble   land. 
Force  your  representatives  to  release  the  Indian  from 
an  official  bondage  more  remorseless,  more  hideous 
than  slavery  itself.    Deliver  him  from  his  pretended 
friends,  and  lift  him  into  fellowship  with  the  citizens 
of  our  loved  and  glorious  country. 


t 


.i( 


-f 


THE  END. 


